Arrow Through My Soul
by Chris Kenworthy
Summary: Maria comes to Metropolis to make an album with LexRecords, now run by Tess Mercer. But when she's attacked outside a club and rescued by the Green Arrow, they find out that Tess is using her to find out more about her alien friends back in Roswell.
1. Chapter 1

I sighed softly to myself as I stepped through the doorway into the baggage pickup section of Metropolis International Airport. I'd pictured this moment, and in my imagination, I'd always either been already carrying my guitar slung over my back already or about to pick it up from one of the carousels. That's the way things are supposed to be - a small-town New Mexico singer-songwriter arriving in the big city to see if she could really make it as a big music star, right? But there are lots of things in this world that don't work out the way they're supposed to be. I've learned that over and over again. Heck, it's probably one of the recurring themes in my lyrics. So why should this one be any different?

It was a choice that I'd made myself, for all of the right reasons. The guitar, I mean. It was an instrument that meant a lot to me, and I'd heard too many stories about instruments getting damaged in a flight to actually trust it to that baggage carousel, no matter how iconic a scene it might be. (Even cliche, perhaps.) And as far as actually carrying it into the business-class section where the label had reserved a seat for me; well, maybe I could have done that. But no matter what Michael said about my chutzpah, I lost my nerve and had it shipped, insured, to the recording studio. Label picked up the tab for the shipping, too - which was generous enough to almost make me suspicious.

But anyway, there I was, so lost in thought that other, less sentimental travellers were bumping into me from behind, (and in one case, trying to grope my behind,) and push past. So I walked around, trying to figure out which carousel I should actually be trying to pick up my maximum of 2 suitcases from. Looked in the carry-on for my ticket, like they're going to print the carousel number on that, and finally twigged in that other people were staring up at the tv screens. There it was. Flight 0427 from Albuquerque, carousel thirteen. Just my luck.

But no obvious bad fortune befell me as I got my belongings together and emerged into Arrivals, pulling one wheeled case along with each hand because they refuse to fasten together the way they were supposed to. And then I saw my own name on one of those cards held up by waiting people. MARIA DeLUCA, with the lower-case e and all. I was somehow so surprised that I knocked my carryon off the suitcase it had been balanced on.

Somehow that maneuver was enough to draw the attention of the card carryer to me. She stood out among the others - a young woman, dressed in bright and bold colors instead of the dark long coats that the older male chauffeurs seemed to favor. "Hi, Maria?" she asked in a voice as bright as the purple of her sweater, coming up to me as I got the bags sorted out again. "Gina Matthews, LexRecords, A&R."

I looked over at her, smiled and nodded slightly. "Nice to meet you." That must have been enough to satisfy her that she hadn't gotten the wrong girl in a case of mistaken identity - and she reached out a hand to me. Though the angle seemed a bit odd, I shook it - and then when she shook back and left the arm in the same position after that was done, I clued in, and passed one of my wheeled suitcases over to her. She took it with a pleased smile.

"We've got the car waiting at the curb," she informed me casually. "How was the flight from Arizona?"

"New Mexico," I corrected her. Oh well, guess I can't expect that she'd know that much about my background, but still the mistake grated on me a little. "Not bad, no complaints in fact other than the fact that it was too short for me to finish the movie. Last time I flew they didn't have those private digital screen thingees."

"Well, we'll have to see if we can get you a chance to see the end," Gina answered with a generous laugh. "Which film was it?"

"The Dark Knight," I answered. "Low-budget thriller about a costumed vigilante teaming up with the police to deal with an anarchist crimelord in Gotham city."

"Oh, I must have missed hearing about that one, but I'll see what I can do." I didn't really care that much about the movie, but it would be interesting to see if Gina, and the label behind her, could deliver on a promise like that. Certainly LexRecords seemed to be taking good care of me so far, but how long would that last once I wasn't the assignment of the day?

The limo that was waiting at the curb was certainly elegant enough, all black and shiny just like they always were in the movies, and Gina got in across from me in the back once the driver had loaded all my luggage into the trunk. "Okay, so, I hope you're not feeling tired much," Gina said as the driver maneuvered confidently out of the airport complex. "The evening schedule allows you a short stop at the hotel to drop of your bags and freshen up, and then there's someone who wants very much to meet you."

"You mean, a lot of people who want very much to meet me," I said, having learned about what I could expect and prepare for it.

"Actually - yes, but most of them aren't going to have a chance tonight. The full VIP meet and greet has been arranged for - let's see, yes, that would be tomorrow night. But Miz Mercer wanted to have the privilege first, and rank does have its privileges. She's made a reservation for two, a late dinner and drinks at Metropolis' hottest spot, the Ace of Clubs."

"Mercer?" I asked, trying to place that among the research I'd done on personnel at the label.

"Tess Mercer, the current CEO of LutherCorp." Oh, right. LexRecords was just a very small subsidiary, really, of the enormous corporate empire founded by the Luthor family. I'd found out that much in my fact-finding, but hadn't bothered cramming on key LuthorCorp personnel. The notion that the head of such a huge corporation would be interested in me was unexpected and a bit disquieting. "But what about - oh, right, I remember now. Lionel Luthor fell from his office window, and Lex Luthor is missing. The family has had some bad luck lately, I suppose." Gina didn't answer or even show much expression - maybe she thought I was being indelicate to refer to any of that, but wouldn't show obvious disapproval. "Alright, um - is there anything I need to know about Miz Mercer before we meet?" Just great, another Tess making her presence felt in my life - though Tess Harding and I have mostly come to terms over the years since West Roswell High. "She must be a very busy lady - any idea why she's making a point out of dinner with an unknown singer who's signed with a small label in the LutherCorp portfolio, on my first night in town?"

"I don't know that much about Miz Mercer," Gina told me, and I realized that she presumably hadn't been told anything about the reasons for the Big Boss lady's decisions either. "She was a scientist in one of our chemical or pharmaceutical research subsidiaries a few years ago, and Lex discovered her, mentored her, promoted her to a management position, and then to make her the Director of that entire company. He left sealed instructions to the Board for what was to be done in the event of his death, incapacitance, or disappearance - and named Mercer as his successor in those papers."

"Ah, I see," I muttered, though I wasn't quite so sure I was getting it all. "That probably ruffled a few feathers - guys who figured they had a shot at the big chair."

"Yes, I suppose so. Miz Mercer is relatively young for the position she holds - but then, so was Lex. In terms of why she's showing an interest in you, Maria - if you're that interested, you might consider asking her that yourself. She has a reputation for appreciating forthright behaviour most of the time, so I doubt she'll get upset with you just for asking."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind." Easy to say, though, for a girl who I assumed wouldn't even be there at dinner. Would I actually have the nerve to ask? Trying to change the subject, I went back to something else that Gina had mentioned. "So, the label's putting me up at a hotel?"

"Yes, the Metropolis Grand." Once again, they seemed to be sparing no expense on me - was this also an aspect of the attention that Tess Mercer was paying to me? "An excellent suite, I believe, which will be yours to use until you arrange something you can feel more at home with - and that's suitable to the image we insist on projecting with all our artists." Hmm - there was something about that line which felt a bit off to me, but I never really minded being spoiled rotten, so I decided not to worry about it.

#

The hotel suite was definitely spoiler stuff in the very best way - elegant in a way that didn't eliminate a slight touch of homeyness, spacious without feeling too big - and the room service menu was almost forty pages long! I'd gladly have stayed in there all night, but Gina knocked on the door as soon as I was out of the shower, so I pulled a nice dress out of my bag and got ready to meet the boss lady.

A bouncer showed me to Tess Mercer's table in the dimly lit club, which was up on the top floor of a Metropolis skyscraper, so in the dim light my first impression wasn't much more than a model-pretty face framed by waves of auburn-red hair. But when I slid into the booth, one of the candles on the table illuminated her a bit more fully, and I realized that there was also strength in the set of her jaw, and iron determination in the stare of her blue-green eyes. I was envious of the combination of beauty and strength that Miss Tess Mercer radiated, but I wasn't sure if I liked her.

"Hello, Miss DeLuca," she said with a nod, and offering her hand. "I'm glad that you were able to come on such short notice. Do you mind if I skip straight to the first-name basis?"

"Umm - I'm not sure," I said, taking her hand, and then taking a drink from the water glass that was nearest me. Ooh - _not_ just water - I couldn't identify exactly what was there, maybe just vodka and water, but the swallow that I'd already taken was hitting my stomach, and it did make me feel a bit more at ease. "You - you can call me Maria if you like, sure, but..."

"But you're not sure if you're comfortable calling your bosses' boss Tess?"

"It's partly that," I said, and decided that if I overstated the case a bit, it might sound more reasonable. "I have a good friend back in Roswell, named Tess, so it just feels a bit strange..."

"Oh, of course, I understand," Miss Mercer insisted.

"And since you bring up - just what is my bosses's boss... why are you bothering to meet me like this, Miss Mercer? Frankly, I expected that there'd at least be another level of management between us, and that's why you're paying those executives - to take care of little details so that you don't have to."

"Well, yes." Mercer took a drink from a glass of her own - that one looked nothing like water, maybe red wine. "Actually, LuthorCorp is paying them, but that's nearly as important to me. And the company pays _me_ to attend personally to the cases that I believe are important enough to deserve such care, and I do believe that you qualify on that basis, Maria. Lex trained me personally, you know..." She paused for a moment. "Yes, you knew that already, I see. Well, Lex was very excited about your contract, my dear, and I think it's a shame that he didn't have the chance to - to see it come to fruition himself."

"Really?" I took another drink from the vodka water and fumbled for a menu to look at. "I guess that surprises me, considering the tack that LexRecords took with me. Signing the recording deal, and then leaving me in college for nearly two and a half years. I mean, to a certain extent I'm glad that nobody whisked me off to Metropolis earlier, but..."

"Timing is important in everything, Maria," Mercer replied, "and the importance or profitability of a project doesn't always mean you need to accelerate it. Lex understood that much, that you had a lot to learn in Albuquerque before you came to Metropolis - learning from your classes at the University of New Mexico, from playing in local clubs, and from practicing the songwriter's craft by yourself and in teams with other fresh local artists."

"You know a lot about my life," I told her, hoping that it was true only up to a point.

"Yes, I suppose I do," Mercer agreed. "The parts of it that relate to the business venture we're in together. I'd like to learn a bit more."

"You mean, vet me to make sure I don't have a scandal lurking that will embarass LuthorCorp?"

"Oh, haven't you heard, Maria? By now, LuthorCorp has acquired a strong resistance to scandal and other bad publicity." I giggled uncertainly at the way she put that. "I'd just need to know the details so I can figure out a way to manage it." No more giggles, back to feeling vaguely uncomfortable. "And since you're staring so intently at the menu, can I reccomend the peppersauce-grilled chicken and spaghettini marinara? Or are you of the vegetarian persuasion? One more detail I don't know about you yet."

"Umm - no, I'll eat beast or fowl if you skin, butcher, or cook it," I rhymed off, which was my mom's stock answer to questions of that sort. "Not - not you personally, I suppose..."

"Don't count me out just yet," Mercer told me with a little smile. "I'm a woman of many unexpected talents."

That set me off giggling nervously again.

#

I ended up going for the ribeye steak and garlic mashed potatoes, out of an impulse to throw Mercer off guard more than anything else, but she didn't seem to be phased as she placed her own order for a salmon loaf and tossed salad. And the alcohol just kept on coming...

Just at the time that our food arrived, she started to bring up the subject of my home. (Note, for obvious reasons I'm less than usually confident about the veracity of this specific dialog, but I'm pretty sure this was more or less the sense of it.)

"So, just what do you have waiting for you to come back to New Mexico, aside from an great friend who happens to have an amazing first name?" Mercer laughed merrily at her own joke here.

"Umm - let's see. You're probably fishing for information about my small-town boy - the guy who I might leave all of this behind for if I start to miss him too much?"

"Well, yes, I suppose so. Would be only natural to be concerned at this point, I suppose. LexRecords has big plans for you, Maria DeLuca, plans that can make you big too, but only if you're willing to see things through and put in the time here, maybe travel around on tour after we've got your first album recorded."

"Okay, well... the guy from my past is - is Michael, and there's a lot to say about him, but... but I'm afraid he's just the past. We, umm - well, we didn't part on the best of terms."

"Would it sound too hypocritical to say that I'm sorry to hear that?"

I ignored that, took a bite of steak and one of potatoes, washed them both down liberally, and continued. "Let's see - I met Michael years ago, back in high school - through friends of friends, wasn't wild about him at first, then the sparks started to fly - he kissed me the first time 'to shut me up' during an argument." That was my standard intro to Michael for new people, carefully worked out to eliminate any reference to alien stuff, and it was probably good that I had it down pat enough that I could manage the recitation without any extras even as I was getting drunk. "But when we graduated high school and I got into the state school in Albuquerque, well, Michael couldn't stay in lock step with my life through that, but overall we kept our relationship working. He was able to finish high school with half-decent grades, working hard at it, but when he tried the junior college he just couldn't stick with it. Working was better for him - he did security guarding for a while, and then got a chance to start in a restaurant kitchen. Or go back, I suppose, he was working in the Crashdown cafe as a fry cook during high school - I waitressed there, and so did my best friend Liz, her parents ran the diner."

"Okay, I think I follow you so far," Mercer agreed. "Get to the bad parting?"

"Hang on, I'm laying groundwork," I insisted. "So, for a lot of the time when I was in Albuquerque, Michael was able to find work too, but then he got an offer to run the kitchen for a Texan grill back in Roswell, and we agreed that he should take it. I only had one more semester to go before I graduated, and I told him that I'd go back to Roswell then - though I didn't say for how long, and he thought... well anyway, a few days before I finished my last exam, I got the call from that LexRecords executive, saying that you wanted to start on recording my album in October, and we - I hadn't forgotten signing the deal, but after two and a half years, it was just something I was used to being in the background."

"What did Michael think about the LexRecords deal when you signed it in the first place?" Tess probed. "Did you ask him about it when you were first scouted?"

"Yeah, of course - but we'd been in a different place back then. He sort of expected that I'd probably be going on tour in a few months, as soon as the classes that I was taking then were done. I did to, though the record hadn't said anything about a timeframe. So..."

And then I broke off, because someone was stepping up to the table with a big friendly grin on his - very handsome face. "Hey, Mercy, how's the deal coming?" He was a friendly, buff, frat-boy type, dark blonde hair sticking up in tips that were highlighted a brighter gold, and somehow for all the casualness of his appearance the guy seemed very comfortable in the black tuxedo that he was wearing.

Mercy - hey, I suddenly liked that nickname for her in my head, even if I might not ever have the nerve to use it to her face - turned a slightly scornful look on the newcomer. "What deal, Oliver?"

"Umm - I assumed that you were here to negotiate some multi-million deal," the Oliver guy said, favoring us both with a bright smile. "Who's your charming and talkative friend?"

"Maria DeLuca," I introduced myself, offering Oliver a handshake too. "Actually, the deal's already been signed, years ago. LexRecords is going to make me a worldwide rock star!"

"Really?" Oliver lifted his eyebrows in an overdone look of wide shock. "But if they've already had years to get started, then why haven't I..."

"No, not really. They scouted my talent back then, but - but I wasn't ready back then. Wanted to finish college, and pay my dues locally."

"Remember that the next time you accuse the LuthorCorp empire of being impatient and just out to make a quick buck," Mercy told Oliver frostily.

"Why, Miss Mercer, I've never said such a thing, and never will," Oliver protested. "The Luthors have always been masters of patience - they're out to grab money and power whenever they can, but when the objective is worth the wait, they're capable of sticking to a plan for - oh, for decades at least." He let that ominous directive hang in the air for a moment. "So I'll leave you two ladies to your own planning. Good night." And with a tip of an imaginary hat, he moved on. I couldn't tell whether he had courtesy calls to pay at other tables or was on his way out of the club. As far as that, maybe he had his own dinner engagement.

Unable to restrain my curiousity, I turned to Mercy. "So, just who was that?"

"Oh - have you heard of Oliver Queen, the young CEO of Queen Industries?"

"Umm, only vaguely."

"That's good enough for him." Oh, well - I was more comfortable with looking up dirt on my own with the netbook in my hotel room than pumping Mercy for her point of view. "Now, I think you were in the middle of telling me about your friends back in Roswell - who was this girl who you waitressed with?"

I sighed and gave her the very brief, safe version of Liz and my history.

#

After that somewhat rocky start, (and the hung-over morning that came after my meeting with Tess,) I settled into life in Metropolis working with LexRecords fairly well over the course of the next week and a half. We started laying down two different songs in the studio which the label people thought had good radio single potential, and I played a few venues in Metropolis, trying to build buzz. I even went back to the Ace of Clubs as a performer and sang a set there, which was definitely fun. And there was the 'full VIP meet and greet' to be gotten through, and several other fancy parties that I was invited to, and though I didn't enjoy them much and stopped looking forward to them, I understood enough of the deal to not put up much of a fuss - the label wanted to get some publicity for its newest 'rising star', and I certainly wasn't in a good position to complain, considering how well they were treating me otherwise.

I tried to look for an apartment of my own, but there wasn't much time to put into that, so I sort of got used to living in that fabulous hotel suite. Called back home to Liz, and spoke with Alex a lot - they're interning up in Seattle now, him with a software company, and Isabel in a hospital. By now it was completely normal to not talk with either of them about - about the secret stuff, and refer to it vaguely in code whenever it did need to be mentioned. We were always careful about phone calls, in case some nut in the FBI or whatever is tapping our lines. Wrote Michael an email, but he didn't get back to me, which was about what I had expected.

I hadn't been graced with Mercy's presence again, (I still liked that nickname for her,) but Oliver Queen kept popping up - he was at the VIP party, think that he crashed it - he probably qualifies as a VIP under most circumstances, but wasn't one of the ones that the label specifically invited. And I'm sure I saw near the front of the crowd when I played Ace of Clubs. Apparently he had a 'wild playboy' rep in the tabloids - maybe if I did make it as the music scene's next it girl he was planning to sweep me off for a torrid and extremely brief, passionate affair. Whatever.

But one night - well, I was playing at a rootsy club in Southside, which was a neighborhood that Liz and Max had both told me to be careful of, but it didn't look too bad when I first got there. The show was great - by this time I was really getting to know the band that LexRecords had paired me up with for public shows - they were local boys who were happy to be getting more money coming in and some good exposure, and the lead guitarist mentioned that if they got a chance to make an album themselves, he'd love for me to come in and sing for at least a few of their tracks.

The crowd seemed to really love us and demanded two encores, and once I'd changed and packed up, I was very stunned to realize that the limo that I'd arrived in just wasn't waiting outside any more. For a moment I couldn't think what to do - just stand there looking stupid? Go back inside and see if the guys in the band were still around, and if they had room in their ride? Try to call a cab - did I still have that emergency cash in my purse?

I decided, for whatever reason, to walk around the area and see if the driver was waiting for me a little bit further away. Maybe he hadn't known exactly when I'd be finished inside. I hadn't gotten to the end of the alley that I'd been expecting my ride to be waiting in when _they_ stepped out of a shadow. Three big guys, dressed in dark colors and with mean looks on their faces. One held a gun, not pointing it but letting it hang at his side, the second was fiddling with a nasty looking knife, and their friend just grabbed my arm. I tried to pull away or toss him with a judo throw or something, but he was too big and those lessons I took were too long ago. "What, what do you..." Suddenly desperate, I tried to shrug my purse into my free hand, meaning to throw it to the guy with the gun and hope that they'd be satisfied with that.

He caught it in his off hand, but scowled and seemed to still be dissatisfied. "This _isn't_ about your purse, or anything in it, or money," the guy who was still holding me tight growled threateningly.

"Then - then what do you want?" I asked, seriously freaking out. Possible answers flashed through my head - had they come to gangbang-rape me? Kill me for no particular reason? Maim, scar, and disfigure me and leave me howling in pain just because that was how they got their kicks? Torture me out of a mistaken impression that I was Jack Bauer's latest cryptography specialist?

"Yeah, that's right." Knife-boy seemed to sense that I was dwelling on the worst possibilities that could occur to me. "Just keep thinking like that for a while, and eventually you'll hit on it. Be afraid, pretty girl - be very afraid, because we're your worst night..."

_WhizzWham_! Something flew through the air, that I couldn't quite see, and the gunman's arm jerked, the one that was holding the gun - the pistol flew loose across the asphalt surface. There was a moment of panic among all three criminals - the gunman dropped my purse and struggled to do something with his affected arm that I couldn't quite see. The one who had grabbed me took another hold on my shoulder and pulled me tighter. It took a second to realize that this wasn't a prelude to rape or any other kind of sexual assault - he was trying to get me into a position where I would shield his body from something. I tried to turn around to see who else had appeared on the scene, or what was going on, but was being held hard enough that I couldn't turn around and see behind me, which was where they were all focused. I saw mister Knife wind up and throw his weapon with every ounce of desperate strength that he could manage, but didn't see what happened in result.

I did see the arrow, striking 'Mac the knife' so quickly that it seemed to have just appeared there, a straight shaft pointing straight into his chest below his shoulder - probably not fatal, but the guy looked like he was in shock and losing some blood. The other guy must have been shot by an arrow too, I realized - I hadn't seen it, but the sound had been right.

A dim recollection of something I'd read about in the Metropolis tabloids occured to me, and I took action, ducking down as best I could and, more successfully, throwing me head to one side.

The third arrow struck straight into my captor's nose, burying deep into what was behind his face in that region. _That_ was possibly fatal, and definitely gross, but I was so glad to be able to push him away from me that I didn't care. Looked around, and sure enough, I could just catch a glimpse of a figure on a second-story balcony across the alleyway, in the right spot to have shot those arrows from. I couldn't make out much, but he was carrying a long bow, (at least four and a half feet,) and was wearing a green hood.

A sound distracted my attention from the mysterious stranger - the gunman was still moving, and that might he might still be a danger. I turned to look for him - he wasn't far from where I'd last seen him, and he hadn't gotten the gun back in his hands yet, but he'd pulled the arrow out and was clutching the shaft in his left hand like a weapon. He didn't seem too steady, though, and something occured to me - maybe from a tv show, or those long-ago self defense lessons. I carefully reached out to hold the arrow shaft myself, thus temporarily minimizing the danger from it, and let fly with as powerful a kick to the guy's head as I could manage. My outfit for the night's set had included boots with sharp toes.

And just before I made contact, there was another _whizz_ sound, and a shooting pain - the hooded freak had shot me in the calf!

There's an unclear transition, but the next thing I really remember was sitting on a concrete ledge, (it wasn't really deep enough to sit on and the corner was poking into my backside,) as the green-robed figure dressed and bandaged my wound silently. I looked around for the three attackers - they were all sprawled on the surface of the alley, the one who had grabbed me probably dead by now. And looking at my rescuer, I saw that underneath the hood he wore a green mask that covered his nose and obscured his eyes. Again, that image was familiar from a 'genuine' picture in the tabloids, and this time I actually let myself think the name, to whisper it out loud. "The Green Arrow," I muttered, awed and bemused.

He looked up as his alias was mentioned. "I'm terribly sorry about this," he muttered, with a voice that seemed unnaturally deep and resonant. "Normally I'd never hit the wrong thing, no matter what was going on, but I guess I was distracted and..."

"What?" I shot back, unable to keep back a smirk. "You had no way of anticipating that a woman might try to get a solid shot in herself, that I wouldn't just stand back and let the masked vigilante come to my rescue like a good damsel in distress?"

After a moment, he chuckled softly. "No, I guess that did come as a surprise, though maybe it shouldn't. I know another young lady with that much spirit and determination, so it shouldn't be a surprise that she's not one of a kind." The Green Arrow sighed. "Maybe it's for the best that I had an excuse to come down and meet you in person, though - because now that I think about it, this whole scene is bothering me. It wasn't just some random mugging or attacking on the South Side."

I had to agree with that much, now that he'd said it. "Okay, what do you think was so strange about it?"

"I trailed those three - hoodlums, I guess- here from downtown this evening," he explained. "They knew exactly where to go and where to wait. And I recognize at least two of them as muscle that LuthorCorp has used to get dirty work done in the past."

"LuthorCorp?" I repeated, uncertain now. "But - but I'm working for a LuthorCorp subsidiary - I have a recording deal with LexRecords."

"Right, Maria!" I blinked at him, wondering how the Green Arrow knew my name in that context, but didn't pursue it. He seemed to shake his head slightly, as if that were a slip on his part, and continued. "Maybe a publicity stunt, a brutal attack that can get into the papers, so that the CD buying public hears about Maria DeLuca in a way that gets you sympathy?"

I thought about that. "I don't know about that. You don't have a high opinion of anything to do with the Luthors, now do you?" He let out a sound that was somewhere between a bark and a snarl. "Well, if that's it, my driver or somebody will probably be along soon to - well, to chase off the hoodlums I guess." I chuckled wryly at that.

"Well, I think we have company already, but I'm not sure it's your driver." Green Arrow had finished bandaging my leg by this point, and when I looked at him in some confusion, he nodded over to the other end of the alley, opposite the hoodlums. Sure enough, there were new strangers come upon us.

There were three of them this time as well - dressed in tight back uniforms with some kind of insignia on them - I couldn't tell what the clothes were made of, but the impression was slightly fetishy - leather, spandex, even rubber, something along those lines. From their faces, I guessed that the strangers were slightly younger than me, only around twenty or so - two girls, one with long and very dark hair, the other much lighter, a dark blonde. The young man was dark too, but not as deep a brown as his friend, and trimmed very short.

Green Arrow didn't seem sure how to handle this development, though I could sense somehow that he didn't really trust these black-uniform kids, and they weren't quite sure how to deal with the situation now that he was in it either. "I... I didn't hurt her - well, not on purpose anyway," Green Arrow started, speaking loudly but keeping his tone unthreatening. "And the gentlemen over there, well, they were in the middle of..."

He didn't get any further than that, partly on account of me. I noticed the dark-haired girl's face set in an angry look that told me she had figured out how to deal. Green Arrow dived close to me, instinctively wanting to protect me, and a half-second later a chunk of loose asphalt that had been about a foot behind where he was standing exploded into an impressive column of flame and sparks. If Greenie had been standing where he was when the explosion happened, he would certainly have been badly burned, but now we were both just out of range. I did my best to stare through those holes in the mask, but could still only catch a glimpse of the eyes of the man behind the mask. One thing seemed to be clear, though - he was worried. This might be a vigilante capable of dealing with most of what he could encounter on the streets of Metropolis, but if the other black-clad kids had abilities to match Miss Explosive, then he was probably outgunned.

My face must have been much easier to read than his, even looking out of the mask as he had to do. He made a tiny little shake of his head over the way that the bodies of the first three guys were still lying, and I nodded, understanding what he had in mind, or at least I hoped that I did. I took a split second to catch a breath, put my hand into the Green Arrow's, and we ran like hell. I didn't look back, but hopefully the kids in black hadn't been expecting this.

As we ran, Green reached into the quiver on his back and pulled out an arrow - he didn't fit it into his bow this time, but just swung the shaft behind his back, and I realized that it was rigged to flash an extremely bright light. Just as we reached the end of the alley and were about to dash down the street, I stopped for a moment to catch my breath - I know that it was the worst time to stop, while the black suit kids still had a line of sight on both of us, but I'm not really in shape for the four hundred yard dash and I **couldn't** keep running at that moment.

Green Arrow hung back too, not wanting to leave me in danger, and a streak of bright blue electrical energy caught up to us at high speed and enveloped him, like he was trapped in a bottle full of lightning. Now I took one look behind and saw the girl with the paler hair in a dramatic pose, one palm pointed toward us like Michael when he shoots an alien energy bolt, and a gust of wind still blowing her hair back dramatically. Were these kids aliens too? Then I thought of the Green Arrow and turned back to him - already the electrical arcs had died away, and he didn't seem to be badly hurt, just slightly stunned. When I resumed the running away, he followed along right behind me.

I hesitated for only a fraction of a second at the corner, but Green was able to pass me in that instant, crossing the street while the only cars were several blocks away, and I followed - he might not be able to wipe the floor with everybody, but in desperate circumstances I'll take the only friendly masked avenger who showed up for me, thanks. At the middle of the new block he waited for me to catch up and notched a new arrow onto his bow, looking up at the building that he'd stopped under - it wasn't one of the famous Manhattan skyscrapers, but at a guess it was six stories, which was higher than a lot of the buildings in this part of Southside, like the club, wherever it was, probably a few blocks away by now. As I puffed up to him, Green told me "hold on tight" and then looked like he was surprised at the sound of his own voice.

He wasn't the only one. Instead of the impressive, deep, resonating tones that I'd heard back in the alley, even when he was brainstorming about what the first trio of lowlifes had been up to, now his voice was a charming tenor that seemed somehow familiar. I was just wondering what I was supposed to hold on to when I found out. He shot the arrow nearly straight up, slightly toward the building, and wrapped an arm around me, pulling uncomfortably tight while I was noticing that the arrow was trailing a length of line behind it, and the line appeared to be wrapped around the bow or something like that. "What the heck?" I complained about the over-tight embrace, and then suddenly both of us were shooting up into the air. That arrow must have been rigged up as a grappling hook or something similar, with an auto-winding motor in the bow.

It was still tougher than it looks like in the movies. I wasn't worried about the social implications of the two of us holding each other tight anymore - I was clinging to Green Arrow for my dear life, and I could sense that he was in at least as strenuous straits, because he had to hold me tight with one arm and support the full weight of both of us on the other as it gripped the bow. My body was pressed tight against his, one boob nearly squashed against his side, and a part of my mind couldn't help but notice how strong and toned his muscles were - not obviously ripped but impressive in a subtler way - and that the sweat of his exertion smelled nice in a manly kind of way.

He smashed in a window on the top floor of the building, obviously meaning to swing us both inside, but a security alarm went off, so he hastily decided on a plan B and retracted the grappling line up until I could scramble on to the roof, and then he followed me. With Green leading the way again, we jumped across a small gap to another roof that was about the same height, and down a stairway and inside this new building, which apparently didn't have the same kind of security system, or it didn't cover the stairwells. (Green Arrow used a lock pick on the door, and I expected that to be built into an arrow as well, but it wasn't - looked like one that I'd seen Cousin Sean use once. Guess Green understands about taking a shtick so far that it becomes camp.)

Once we were both waiting in the hallway of that low-rent office building, until the heat of pursuit died down, I turned to Green Arrow. "Your voice - it changed," I said. "Sounded sort of familiar back there. What's going on?" He just shrugged, obviously not feeling the need to explain much to a girl like me - and I realized that maybe I shouldn't have given away that I recognized the second voice. He might be trying to protect his secret identity.

With my typical mix of stubbornness and curiosity, I pushed the case further. "The change - it was after you got an electric shock," I told him. "Maybe something electronic got shorted out - something in that big hood that you use to disguise your voice. And since I recognize your voice, and you knew your name - I've met you before, since coming to Metropolis. Isn't that right - Oliver?"

He stayed quiet, trying to bluff me out, but I just scoffed at that tactic. "Who else knows that Oliver Queen is the Green Arrow? It makes sense that a big tech company is behind all of your specialized arrows and other gear - like that Dark Knight move." Maybe that was what had put the notion of secret identities into my head. "You know, you're going to have to talk to me before we both get out of this mess - you're in as much trouble as I am, now - maybe more. Those kids in black hate your guts, too, don't they. Do you supppose that they work for LuthorCorp too?

Oliver sighed, and shrugged back his hood, though he kept the mask on for now - it made me even more sure that this was really him, though. "Probably. I've heard rumors that Tess was assembling a team of super-powered people."

In this connection, it took me about a second to realize that he didn't mean my Tess. "You mean Mercy? Tess Mercer, I mean?" He shot me a look. "I've been calling her 'Mercy' in my head ever since I heard you do it - I already have a friend named Tess." Oliver nodded in weary acceptance of this explanation. And I'm not quite sure why I blurted this next bit out - maybe it was Tess coming to my mind, or just being tired or confused. "When you say super-powered people, do you mean - aliens or something like that?"

"Aliens?" The question seemed to be significant to Oliver Queen, but he shook his head. "Not aliens, by an large - meteor infected, mostly." My face must have looked absolutely blank to him. "We've had a few unusual meteor showers in this area - one over twenty years ago, another just a few years back." I nodded, because the more recent one, at least, I'd heard about. "The rocks that made it to earth were laced with a particular kind of mineral, that's radioactive in an unusual way - not dangerous to ordinary people in the short term, but people or creatures who are exposed over long periods can be changed - their DNA mutates, and the cell structure is infused with unusual energy... well, the explanations could go on, but people get unusual power. Lots of them also go at least a bit crazy."

"Hmm, okay." I sighed. "So, let's see - to figure out what we have to do next, we need to review what we're up against - and apparently, all the signs point back to LutherCorp. First, three ordinary muscle ruffians, who accosted me in the alleyway. When you rescued me from them, the meteor-infected kids showed up." I thought about that. "Is it possible that the whole thing was a trap for you? Nothing to do with me at all, I was just a convenient victim for you to rescue? Has the Green Arrow been causing LuthorCorp enough trouble, that they'd arrange all this?"

"Maybe," Oliver muttered, "except I can't see how they'd know that I'd find you. Yes, I was tracking the muscle, but I don't think that Tess was tracking me tracking them tonight. I still think that you're part of the motive..." He mulled over that. "And here's why - I don't believe that Mercy would have had dinner with a no-name artist on her label, unless you were part of a secret project of hers, a hidden agenda. What did she talk to you about when the two of you were alone together?"

I started to get some ideas, now that Oliver had connected that dinner with the events of tonight. "She - she was pumping me for information about my friends back in New Mexico," I whispered. "Getting me drunk in the hopes that I'd say more than I meant to, as well."

"And if I hadn't been here, and you'd been jumped by people like those goons, and got a chance to run away, would you have called one of those friends?" Oliver asked, and I had to nod. "Do any of them have - unusual abilities of their own?"

The implications of this were staggering. "Are you thinking that LuthorCorp has known something about - my friends, for years, since I was originally signed?"

"LexRecords approached you that long ago?" Oliver asked, and I nodded. "Then I guess Lex was suspicious enough to be patient."

"Ohboy," I muttered. "Okay, as much as I hate this, it'll do as a plausible theory. What does that mean for us?" I patted the pocket of my tight jeans that I'd sung in. My purse must have slipped off my shoulder around the time that Oliver shot me, but my new little cell phone was inside - the phone that had been a gift from Gina at the label. I brought it out to show Oliver. "So this is..."

He took it and casually tossed it a long way down the hallway. "Certainly bugged to record calls, and transmit its location to Mercy at LuthorCorp via the GPS. Might even be rigged to transmit sounds in its vicinity when it's not open," he recited in a low whisper, leaning close to my ear. "You're going to make one call, to throw her as far off the trail as you can think of, and then we have to get moving again. Soon."

I thought about it, and nodded. For a second I considered refusing to go with Oliver - but if Mercy wanted to find out about Michael, she might consider using tougher techniques when she found out that she couldn't trick me into giving him away. "Okay, if I'm going to lead her astray, I need to know which way we're going."

Oliver mulled that over for a moment. "We need to get well away, out of Metropolis if we can. I wish that girl hadn't managed to fry my comm link with the League." I wasn't sure what he meant, but didn't ask. "But there's one possibility we can try - we'll need to find a working phone booth first. Tell someone that you'll be heading further south, that you'll meet them as soon as they can get here at the Hobb's bay bus station."

"Okay," I agreed. "And where do we actually go from here."

"I'll tell you after we ditch the phone. Just to be safe."

I groaned softly and headed down the hallway to look for the fool thing.


	2. Chapter 2

We exited the building on the ground floor, moving a bit too quickly to show any caution, but I suspected that the idea was that blending in with the nighttime pedestrian traffic and not looking out of place were more important than looking for an ambush right there.

Oliver Queen had changed considerably since I'd first guessed his true identity. The long green robe with concealing hood had been folded and fastened up into a large duffel bag, and into this case had gone the various ruined electronics, his green mask, the bow (also folded up,) and quiver of tricky arrows. Underneath the robe and cape was the same handsome, slightly irrelevant blond guy who I'd met at the Ace of Clubs, except that instead of a black tuxedo, he was wearing tan dockers and a blue dress shirt.

Myself, I was still stuck in the same outfit from my performance, and I really do mean stuck - I'd picked out the jeans, the tight pink t-shirt, the high-heeled leather boots, and the hairdo with flat braids running down the middle of my back - but the intent had been to look sexy and to blend in with a slightly seedy club on the wrong side of town. I'd have made very different choices if I'd known that I'd be running for my life tonight - but then, doesn't that go without saying?

As I headed out to cross the street, I felt a hand grabbing my arm, and a few different possibilities immediately ran through my mind. The first choice, that some enemy had come upon us both unawares and was dragging me away, I immediately discarded in favor of number two - that Oliver was keeping me from crossing the street. Charitably, I immediately accorded him explanation 2-a, that there was a car approaching and he was only being so rude to save my life, until he had to speak up and ruin that assumption.

"I see an actual phone booth down this way," he said, actually dragging me back to the sidewalk and along a few steps before losing interest enough to let my arm go. I followed, but rubbed my arm in annoyance and dwelled on the more polite ways he could have imparted that information and suggested a change in course.

Soon enough, we'd arrived at that booth, (even allowing sufficient time for me to walk in tight jeans and high heels as my muscles were getting sore,) and Oliver verified that it was functional, if irredeemably grimy. I half expected him to ask me if I had change, (Michael would have, and so far Oliver was reminding me of my ex's most annoying qualities,) but Oliver produced a smart leather wallet from his side pocket and poured enough quarters out of its own miniature change pocket that one of them fell to the concrete and he didn't even bother picking it up. I gently eased my jeans into a squatting position and retrieved the coin - you never know when you might need it. By the time I was back into a standing position, Oliver had already finished dialling, and in only a moment more, somebody picked up on the line.

"Hello, Lois?" he started. "Glad I caught you at the 'Planet'. You'll be heading back to Smallville in a few minutes, right?" There was a moment when Lois, whoever she was, answered. I couldn't make out the words, even as close as I was hovering, but I could tell that she was starting to ramble about something or other. After a few more seconds, Oliver ran out of patience.

"Yeah, that's great," he interrupted smoothly. "Listen, this is a bit strange, but I need a lift. Can you pick me up? It's on the southside, but I won't ask you to stop around here for more than a second. I can tell you a bit more about why when we're on our way." More response from Lois, and I could tell that she was surprised at this request, (who wouldn't be startled at a multi-millionaire acquaintance trying to bum a lift?) but that he'd also managed to provoke her interest somehow - maybe through curiosity, or with that patronizing bit about it only being safe for her to stop for a moment around here.

So Oliver spoke again, delivering directions about where to pick us up in a crisp tone, and then added just before he hung up. "Oh, and I've got a plus-one here, that okay?" It sounded like an afterthought, but I wondered if he'd actually planned it that way to manipulate the situation just a bit further. Then Oliver turned back to me. "We should keep moving, on general principles. Lois will be at the rendezvous in ten minutes or so, and the address I gave her is four blocks away. Think that you can manage it, in those heels?"

I sighed. "You just lead the way, and your 'plus-one' will make her way along somehow. It's not the heels that slow me down as much as these pants."

Oliver waved me ahead, and I started walking again, but Oliver didn't follow for a moment - I turned back and realized that he was watching my jeans and heels, and the overall effect, with an expression that didn't exactly convey concern for my predicament."Wipe that leer off, bud - and if you've got something in mind for what you're going to tell this Lois girl, you might as well let me in on the script."

"Ehh - I figured something would occur to me once we were in her car," Oliver admitted as he caught up. "This seems to be a good evening for the best laid plans going astray, so when that happens I usually just let the current sweep me along unless somebody's obviously in a lot of trouble."

"Just great," I muttered. "And who **is** Lois to you? Your girlfriend - when you're Oliver and not the Arrow, I mean."

The question shook his stride, but only slightly. "Umm - not really. We used to date, but that was years ago. When I moved back to Metropolis, we - well, we're kinduv friends now. Or trying to be. That's the short version, at least, and not to be rude, that's what you're getting for now."

"So, ex-girlfriend and complicated baggage," I summarized. "Got it."

"And what about your boyfriend?" Oliver pressed. "Is he an alien?"

"What?" I exclaimed, furious. "How do you know about that. I thought you said that you were only..."

"Hey, I'm only guessing from what you told me," Oliver insisted. "Or, well - I did do a quick search to try and find out why Mercy was interested in you, after we met that first time. Didn't get much more than basic bio stats on where you were born and so on. But you're not the only one who can piece together a mystery from scattered clues and a hefty dose of intuitive thinking, Maria. When I told you about people with powers, your first guess was aliens. You've admitted that you have friends with powers. And you come from Roswell, for crying out loud! It doesn't take much imagination to put that all together."

"Ssh," I suggested, just in case someone might overhear Oliver's enthusiasm, though the two of us seemed to have the entire street to ourselves for the moment. "That just shows that you haven't been to Roswell yourself. I think that nobody who has ever takes the stories of alien landings seriously."

"Well, you still need to be careful, because I don't think that Tess has made a visit herself," Oliver warned me, and sighed. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. "I guess I might as well tell you one other thing, so I can ask you a question. I've run into another alien, during my exploits as the Green Arrow - guy's got issues, but he's been a big help now and then. And a few other characters from the same corner of the Galaxy or whatever, and the other ones are almost always trouble. So, your friends - are they Kryptonian? Do they even know?"

I blinked - certainly I hadn't expected that. "Umm, no, it was a while before they found out anything about their home, but..." I broke off, but Oliver was nodding at me, and waved that we had arrived at our rendezvous spot already. "Antar - Antarian. And _how_ did you guess that one of them was my boyfriend?"

"I don't know - just seemed like you had that kind of baggage yourself." He shrugged.

There was a long silence. "Umm, so - what are Kryptonians like? I mean - well, what kind of powers do they have? I mean, you don't have to answer if that's a secret, but you've already told me something about - well, your friend or whatever, and I guess I'm interested."

"I'll tell, if you tell me the same about your friends," Oliver said, and cocked his head. "But not just yet, because that's my ride. Nothing about aliens in front of Lois - unless you think you can make yourself sound batty enough about it that she won't take you seriously. I wouldn't try that myself - she's seen way too much weird stuff, on the Daily planet beat and before when she was hanging around Smallville - plus she's naturally a bit gullible, but don't let her know I said so."

"And you never trusted her enough to tell her about the Green Arrow business?" I asked, but Oliver only had time to shake his head as the banged-up dark green sedan pulled up. Oliver held open the back door for me, and then got in after me. I buckled up and mumbled thank you to the driver, Lois. It was hard to see much of her by the streetlight that got past the windshield, but I caught wide, shining eyes, (though I couldn't tell their color,) straight brown hair framing her face, and beestung lips.

"Okay, I'm not your usual chauffeur, Oliver, so what's the deal?" Lois complained. "I've put the car in park, and it's not moving an inch until I hear answers - not your usual half-explanations, but..."

And then, just like it was on cue, a blast of dark red energy rocketed past the left-side windows of the car and thumped into the asphalt about ten feet away. Lois shook her head, (I couldn't really see her face now because I was right behind her,) turned to look at the little hole that had been blasted into the road, and hurried to change the gears. I wondered about that - the bolt had to be courtesy of one of those three kids that Mercy had sent after me - probably the boy - it was starting to look like these 'meteor freaks' probably only had one offensive power each, and the dark girl made explosions, the blonde girl worked with electricity.

But how likely was it that any of them caught up with us _just_ as we were getting into Lois' car? Was it possible that they'd spotted us before, but not made a move until it became apparent that I was getting away? Maybe - but then why hadn't the bolt been aimed better? Because they were under orders not to let me really get badly hurt, and there was no way of telling what might happen if the gas tank was breached?

I pondered such things as Lois made her way out of the Southside and onto a main road heading out of Metropolis, and only really got shaken out of my own thoughts when I clued in that Lois had finally badgered Oliver into giving an accounting of the situation, even with the threat of not starting to drive ruined by circumstances.

"It's a bit complicated, but for one thing, I can't really call on Queen Industries help because they all think that I'm in Singapore," he was telling her. "Obviously, if it comes down to that, I'd rather that everyone in the company finds out about that ruse than see someone get hurt, but it's not so simple. I'd need to reach the right person to even convince them that I'm really Oliver and not some punk who's trying to take his place, and - well, I don't happen to have my usual address book of phone numbers on me either."

"Okay, that's a start," Lois said doubtfully. "What's the reason for all of this secrecy and near-incognito-ness, anyway? And who's the new chica?"

"I'm not sure I can tell you that," Oliver told her. "You're the press now, and this can't become news before the deal is done."

"Well, you'd better be careful when you ask the _press_ for favors, buddy, if you can't even explain yourself," Lois stormed.

Okay, this was starting to look bad. I wouldn't put it past this Lois girl to pull off to the side of the highway and try to throw us out of her car. Oliver was stronger than her, yeah, but how would he react? I had to try to divert her, but I had little but the truth to work with.

"Umm, hi Lois, and sorry for putting you out like this. My name's Maria, and I - well, I'm a singer. I was performing at a club in the Southside, and when I came back out after the encore, my driver wasn't where he was supposed to be. Then..." Hmm, no need to mention the first round of tough guys, I guess. "These three kids in black leather suits showed up, and they..."

"They attacked me, and possibly killed the man I was meeting with - at the club where Maria was singing," Oliver filled in. "He was the chief scientist for a small research lab - they've discovered something big and wanted to make a deal to sell the breakthrough to Queen industries for development. Maria was just in the wrong place at the wrong time - she saw enough of the attackers to identify them, so they want her dead."

"Three kids in fetish outfits have you both on the run?" Lois asked. Oliver made a slight nod for me to describe them.

"They - they were like living weapons," I admitted. "One of the girls - she made the pavement explode at me, and the other gave Oliver an electric shock. You - you saw the energy bolt that nearly got the car when you picked us up."

"I'm not sure that I saw it," Lois admitted. "I heard something, and saw the little crater. Okay, okay, I believe you. Come to think of it, I've heard some similar stories around the Planet lately. Maybe a new group of mercenaries or just amped-up gangsters, whatever." She took a deep breath. "We'll be in Smallville in under twenty minutes, Queen. What's the plan? Am I taking both of you with me to the Kent farm?"

Oliver cringed slightly when she mentioned that location, (whatever it was,) but seriously considered the question for a moment. "No, umm, if you can let us off in the center of town, such as it is, that'll be fine."

"Like, right across from the Talon?" Lois asked him.

"Yeah, that'll do I suppose." There was a long moment's pause. "What's that look you're aiming at me in the rearview mirror about?"

"Well, um, let's just say it hasn't escaped my attention how much time you're spending with a certain relative of mine who lives over there."

"Umm." Oliver actually did look uncomfortable. "Do I need to mention that it isn't..."

"No, Ollie, I don't believe that Chloe is cheating on Jimmy with you," Lois assured him, chuckling like this was the most priceless joke she'd heard all day - if it was a reasonably unfunny day. I didn't see what was humorous, though I didn't know Chloe and Jimmy - yet. Something told me that would change soon. "On the other hand, I can't say that I'm as sure you're not dragging her into something dangerous."

"I'm certainly not dragging her into anything that she didn't ask to be involved in," Oliver put in. "And - well, I'm doing my best to make sure that she's safe."

"Word of advice, Mister Queen," Lois said as we passed a sign that mentioned 'Smallville' - though I couldn't see the corresponding number for the distance. "Do better than your best. Seriously."

#

The Talon was an interesting building. I wish that I could have seen more of the downstairs, but Oliver hurried me up the stairs as soon as he could - he unlocked the front door, but I couldn't say for sure whether he'd used an ordinary key or the picks. Probably doesn't matter.

"What is this place?" I asked as I got a different perspective on the moonlit furniture from halfway up the curved stairway. "Some kind of a coffeeshop?"

"At times it was, yeah," Oliver mumbled grumpily. "I think it used to be a movie theater, back years and years ago. Lana reopened it when she was still back in high school, and furnished the small apartment upstairs here."

"And who's Lana?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Oh, never mind." Oliver knocked on the door at the top of the stairs, firmly but not really loud. There was a shout of 'justa minute', probably a girls' voice though somehow it was hard to be sure, and some silence while more than one person ran around and did things in the rooms beyond the door. Finally the door opened a crack, revealing a slice of a young woman's face, early twenties, with short curly blonde hair and pale blue-gray eyes. (Okay, I only saw one eye, but felt justified in assuming that the other would be similar.

"Oliver!" the girl, (Chloe?) exclaimed. "What's going on? Who's your friend? And - well, I mean, Jimmy's over, and..."

"This is important, Watchtower," Oliver muttered, leaning close to the door. Maybe he hadn't meant for me to hear that part.

"Um - okay, I'll see if I can... well, get rid of him. Dammit!" The girl pushed the door almost closed again, and then I heard the faint clink of a chain before it was opened wider. (I hadn't noticed a chain holding the door closed, but probably was just looking at other things.) Her appearance when fully revealed mostly matched the impression I'd gotten through a crack in the door - she was shorter than me, but not quite as petite as Liz or Tess, (who she did remind me of just a bit, with the blonde hair,) and was wearing baggy jeans, a gray sweatshirt with the Metropolis U logo on it - and nothing on her feet. I started to realize what she might have been doing on her evening in with Jimmy, and why it had taken a while for them to answer the door.

"Hello - Chloe?" I asked, since Oliver hadn't made a move to get with the introductions. She nodded as I extended a hand. "Maria DeLuca - Oliver kinda saved me from some trouble this evening."

"Oh." Chloe looked up at Oliver as she went through with the handshake, and he returned the meaningful glance. "More to it than that?" she asked in a whisper, and he nodded. "Great."

I didn't see much of Jimmy - a tall, lanky young man, with a friendly face and a ready sense of humour. The scene that played out between him and Jimmy was a bit touching in its essence to anybody who knows about having to keep secrets, though I've never actually dated anybody that I had to keep my secret from - well, there was Adam Parker in freshman year of college, while Michael and I were broken up, but we never got that serious. (No, he's no relation of Liz's.) But it was easy for me to tell that Chloe was well familiar with Oliver's secret identity as the Green Arrow, among possibly other secrets that she felt she couldn't share with Jimmy, as much as she loved him - and that this wasn't the first time she had to put other things ahead of spending time with him. I felt sorry for the guy as he cleared out, but was glad that there wouldn't be a hitch in terms of Oliver getting whatever help he felt he needed from Chloe.

So - he told her most of the story, giving me a chance to fill in about the parts that he hadn't really seen or whatever. When he mentioned the theories that Mercy was after 'friends of mine' and had rigged my phone, Chloe suddenly became agitated.

"If she followed Lex's usual methodology, there would have been a tracker that wasn't nearly so easy to throw away," she said. "Trust me, I know how that routine goes."

I didn't really understand what she meant, but Oliver obviously does. "An implant inside her? But we can't exactly X-ray her, Chloe. I want to be careful about this."

"Wait a second - how would LuthorCorp have put a tracking implant inside me?" I asked. "They brought me in for a physical, but that was strictly routine - no reason to put me under an anaesthetic or anything."

"You're sure?" Chloe insisted, and I had to nod. "Then at night - you're still living in the hotel room that they arranged for you. There would be plenty of ways to make sure that they could spirit you away without you waking up to remember anything."

That was probably truer than I wanted to think. "So - so what's our next move?" I thought about it. "We - we need to find out for sure, and find some way of removing the implant or disabling it - and then Oliver and I need to move on. Chloe, will you be in trouble if they know that I got here?"

Chloe shook off that question. "First things first. I'm not sure if we need to check out your entire body, though - when I got implanted, it was right about here." She tapped a spot underneath her right shoulder and collarbone. "If we can find out..."

Oliver was nearly on top of me in a few seconds, prodding at that same spot on my body, first with his own fingers, and then the blunt end of a pencil that had been sitting on the table. "Ow, hey!" I exclaimed. "Even in a good cause, it's polite to ask first..."

"Wasting your breath with that tack, on him," Chloe muttered under her breath, mixed with a chuckle that she couldn't quite supress.

"I do feel something hard in here," Oliver decided, "and it needs to come out right _now_." Reaching into the cloak-bag, which he had put down on the floor, he rummaged for one particular arrow and detatched its head - which was a thin, gleaming razor. "Put some water in the nuke, Chloe - we'll need everything to be as sterile as circumstances permit."

I immediately felt woozy, and didn't fight the dizzyness. Maybe it would help.

#

I don't remember too much of that 'field surgery' that Oliver performed, which is definitely for the best. Next clear image is sipping a coffee that Chloe had handed me, and realizing that there was a bandage on my collar. (Later I found out that Oliver had given me a shot of liquor and some pills to help with the pain. Great idea, huh?)

"Okay, umm, so what's next?" I asked groggily.

"You and Oliver need to keep moving, just like you said," Chloe told me. "Hide out somewhere close by where the LuthorCorp minions aren't likely to think of looking." She pause, and I looked up just in time to catch (and mentally process) the meaningful look she sent to Oliver. "How d'you feel about a trip down into the Kowatche caves?"

"If she already has experience with aliens, I'd be nervous about how she'd react with the gate down there," Oliver pointed out. "Last thing any of us want is for you-know-who to get pissed off at our boy."

"It doesn't even lead anywhere, now," Chloe argued back, and Oliver just shrugged. "Okay, okay, point well taken I guess. Where else?"

"I'm not the one from around here, but there's got to be someplace abandoned and not that uncomfortable," Oliver complained. "What about that Creekside place?"

"It's still practically covered with Kryptonite," Chloe argued.

"That won't hurt either of us - not for a night or so. Once the sun's well up, I'll be able to place a discrete call in to somebody at the office and get some backup from the company."

"Wouldn't you rather have..." Chloe trailed off, looking at me, (I was following all of this with an intent stare,) and struggled for another euphemism, since 'you-know-who' had already been taken. "Have our good friend be on call? Even if Lois doesn't know the whole story, she's probably told him enough to know that something's up."

"I don't want him involved," Oliver said. "Tess would love to have more dirt on..."

"But he's able to deal with people like those kids that Tess has tricked or pressured into working for her," Chloe said. "You just don't want him to have to save you again..."

"No, I don't, and I don't need him either," Oliver raged. "We don't have time to argue about this either."

"No, I guess I don't, not with a stubborn bastard like you." Chloe sighed. "You want to weigh in here, Maria? This is your life, and your friends, on the line too?"

I thought about trying to argue with Oliver, but frankly it didn't seem to be worth the trouble, given his mood. I was stuck with whatever his plans and the liabilities of his personality, and didn't really have the information or the clarity of mind to change that. "No - thanks for your help, and I guess we'll be going now."

"Me too - I'll be leading our friends away," Chloe said, holding up a little thing that I couldn't make much of at first sight. "With this."

"What?" Confused, I looked over to Oliver, who just shrugged with the same kind of resignation I'd felt about going with him. "But - if that's the tracker, and the kids in black think that you're me..."

"They may go so far as taking me to Tess Mercer for questioning," Chloe said. "But I don't think, at this point, Tess will hurt me. She still thinks that I might be more useful to her later on. I don't think I'll go to the trouble of changing clothes with you, though, and no offense."

That made me think of something. "Could I get some different clothes, though? This getup isn't great for being on the run in. I know that we don't have much time, but..."

"We'll have to hurry, but I'll see," Chloe promised me. "You're around Lois' size, I think, and I have some of her stuff over here."

So we went over clothes in a hurry, while Oliver raided Chloe's kitchen for supplies to take to the Creekside foundry. I'd have preferred comfortable pants, but we couldn't find any, and a mid-length denim skirt was better than my jeans for running in, especially with comfy running shoes. When Oliver called that we had to go, no preferable substitute had been found for my T-shirt, but still I felt a bit better. I caught Oliver - appreciating the finer points of the outfit, both old and new, as I hurried out of the bedroom.

So we left the Talon, said goodbye to Chloe, and headed off on foot through what there was of downtown Smallville. "How far is this place? The kids in black will have gotten a car from Luthorcorp by now, if they didn't have one to get to the club at the start of this lovely evening?"

"Maybe a mile and a half, but I don't think we need to worry about getting there at top speed, just as long as we keep moving," Oliver pointed out. "Having a car can make it harder to find people running away from you on foot, unless you know where to look for them. They'll have been delayed somewhat when we got away from them on the Southside, I think, and Chloe will provide another good diversion."

"Okay." I sighed, and asked the next question that came to my mind. "What's Kryptonite, then, and why was Chloe so worried about it being spread over this Foundry?"

"That's the meteor rock I told you about earlier," he said shortly. "I still don't know too much about why it does what it does, but it seems to be connected to - well, to an alien planet."

"Oh," I said, seeing it. "Your Kryptonian friend - Kryptonite. The planet Krypton, I would assume. I get it now." Thought about that. "And - does Kryptonite hurt the Kryptonian? Was that why Chloe was worried? She knows him too, and she knows that he won't be able to come help us if we go hide in a place with Kryptonite around?"

"Wow, you're good," Oliver admitted. "Yes. The radiation of green Kryptonite, the most common type in meteor rocks - it's acutely poisonous to Kryptonians, not to humans. There are other variants, that affect them in different ways."

"Okay." I was about to say something about the obvious chip that Oliver had on his shoulder about his friend helping him out, but decided not to get into it. "Oh - back before Lois drove up, we were about to share secret alien powers. Tell each other about them, I mean."

"Okay - are you sure about this?" Oliver asked, looking around again for anyone who might hear. I saw his eyes flash with faint mischief in the street lights.

"Sure, I'll even go first," I said. (Probably was still feeling a bit lightheaded from everything that I'd been through back at the Talon.) "Antarians can - can project energy, kind of like that guy back in Metropolis could, and move objects by concentrating on them, though it's hard to control the motion and stop it without overcorrecting. They can manipulate matter by changing its molecular structure, don't ask me to explain that one right now - um, let's see. A few of them kind of have unique talents that the others can't imitate - to enter people's dreams, see what they're dreaming about or send them messages. To send illusions into a person's brain so that they see or hear something that isn't happening, or can't see something that's there. Making a sort of wall of energy that people can't break through, and bounces back bullets."

"Hmm." Oliver considered this. "Useful talents, certainly. If any of them want to stand and fight with worthy allies against people like Tess Mercer, keep Luthorcorp from running the world the way it wants to and protect innocent lives - I'll be interested in having them join the Justice League."

"Well, I suppose I can relay the invitation," I said. I was a bit more curious about this League - he'd mentioned it before, and I couldn't remember at this point if I'd heard about it before. Was Green Arrow the leader, or just the recruitment officer? I supposed that I'd have time to ask about it later. "Your turn - make with the Kryptonian powers."

"Very impressive," Oliver admitted with a sigh as we crossed a street. "They have incredible strength, nearly infinite as far as I can tell, and can move at blink-of-an-eye speeds. My good friend," and here he chuckled wryly," could run a mile and a half in under a second without breaking a sweat, that's for sure, and that includes taking the corners."

"Whoa - are you serious about that one?" I said, seriously addressing the possibilities and reeling a little. "Even aliens have to be subject to the laws of physics, at some level - the effective impact, the momentum or whatever, of taking a sharp turn at those kinds of speeds..."

"I was just getting to the impacts," Oliver said, grinning widely as he anticipated dropping another bomb. "Kryptonians - _incredibly_ tough, in fact, I'd say under ordinary circumstances I'd say just about invincible. Blades or bullets would just bounce off their skin. Even a bomb blast wouldn't singe their skin. My buddy's gotten into some epic brawls with super-strong Kryptonite mutants, or other aliens, and they just end up throwing each other across the room, into the walls, whatever. He keeps getting up until he figures out a way to win the fight."

"That must be nice," I said, almost wishing that Michael's thick skin was so literal. "What doesn't count as ordinary circumstances? Green Kryptonite exposure?"

"That's one, yeah. They can be hurt when that stuff is around," Oliver explained. "Which was quite a problem for them, around here especially."

"Okay," I said, thinking about it. "We've got super-strength, super-speed, invulnerability. Anything else?"

"Umm - extremely sensitive hearing, x-ray vision - I've heard stories about him using that one in high school... and a kind of heat ray that they can shoot out of their eyes. Some of the other Kryptonians can fly, but my guy hasn't really gotten up the nerve on that one yet. He's not wild about heights, though he's managed some impressive super-strength jumps." He sighed. "Definitely sound like they're not particularly related types of aliens, almost a complimentary set of powers. Kryptonian abilities, in general, seem to be very active and immediate - great for a super-soldier or scout. Antarian powers, as you described them, are less specific and overwhelming, but possibly more flexible and more directable."

"Yeah, I think I see what you mean," I agreed. When I finally had the opportunity to go back home to Roswell, or meet some of the gang in a neutral place, even talk with my friends back home on the phone - without worrying about Mercy tracking them down, I'd have a lot to tell them about because of this meeting with Oliver, and there'd undoubtedly be lots of implications to discuss. At least this Kryptonian guy seemed to be a good'un, even if Oliver was obviously resentful about being overshadowed by another hero with more natural advantages - and one big obvious Achilles heel.

"Oh, I think I forgot to mention this. One of 'my friends back in Roswell' - he can heal people and save lives. As in literally go up to somebody who's dying and fix what's wrong with them. That's how I got involved in this, actually, one of my friends was..." I stopped before explaining that Liz was shot. That might be enough for Oliver to track down Liz, and through her the others, and I didn't want things to go there yet. "She got hurt, could have died, but he healed her, and she found out how, and told me." I looked over at Oliver to see how he was reacting to this, and took a while to spot him - because he hadn't continued walking next to me, but was standing stock still about twenty feet back. "What's going on?" It was obvious that the mention of healing meant something to him, so... "Oh - do you have a sister who's terminally ill or something, so that you need - um, need a friendly alien to..."

"No, no, it's not someone I'm close to," he assured me. "I was actually thinking of it the other way. _why_ did Mercy bring you to Metropolis now to try and find out more about your friends, after all? After Lex and anybody else he told about that lead at Luthorcorp waiting patiently for years, to see if they could learn something by less risky methods? There were other things that could have gone wrong with Mercy's plan other than me interfering - and she had to know that. She was taking a big risk, and she's smart enough not to do that if she didn't have an excellent reason."

"Umm - okay, I see the significance of the question you're raising, but I don't know the answer..."

"What if she's guessed about the healing power? What if there's somebody very important to Luthorcorp who needs the kind of help that only a friendly alien can provide?"

"Oh, lord," I muttered. It was Metachem all over again, not that I was going to get into that mess with Oliver either. "Well, who might it be? You've researched Luthorcorp extensively, is there some senior executive who might be in failing health, or..."

Oliver glared at me, and then shook his head in frustration. "I thought you'd understand what I was getting at. _It's Lex Luthor_!" The words echoed faintly in the street around us, and I giggled nervously. If anybody overheard only that, at least, they'd certainly misunderstood what Oliver was really talking about. "He's not really missing without a trace - not from Luthorcorp itself. Tess knows where her ex-mentor is, and is doing everything that she can to find a cure for some injury that he's taken, including putting pressure on aliens with healing powers - or at least that's the plan."

"Then, if she's that desperate, we'll need to be extra careful," I said, looking around us again.

"Probably true," Oliver admitted. "But if we've guessed right about her motives, that may be a weapon that I can use against her, to defend you with." He sighed.

"I'm not quite sure why you think Lex might have been hurt," I pointed out, and caught a twitch on that pretty face of his. "You know something about Lex Luthor's disappearance, don't you?"

"I - I suppose I do. It's not something that I'm really supposed to talk about..."

"No, no dice!" I complained. "If this bears on why I'm on the run, and my friends might be in danger, then you need to spill."

"Okay, it has to do with - my friend." Oliver sighed. "For now, let's call him the Traveller, because that's how... well, Lex Luthor found out some things from an obscure cult that was waiting for a Kryptonian to come to Earth, and that's what they were called in the cult records. Travellers. Lex found something that the cult had been keeping secret, a mechanism that would 'control the traveller' if he became dangerous to humanity, using his powers to dominate and enslave us. Lex was - well, he's always had a thirst for power, and the notion of controlling a Kryptonian's powers was too big a lure to resist. He stole the mechanism, and worked out that he had to take it to the Traveller's base of operations, a kind of dome of Ice up in the arctic, for it to work. My friend, the actual real-life Traveller, went up there to try and stop him in time, and - and the dome collapsed, the glacier it was on breaking and dumping them both into the Arctic sea."

"Wow," I muttered. "But the mechanism didn't work? I guess with a Kryptonian's constitution, your friend wouldn't have been much affected by some cold water."

"We... um, well, we think that it did work, the way the Kryptonians who designed it, long ago, planned it to," Oliver said. "The cult records were misleading, maybe on purpose. The mechanism was never meant to put a Kryptonian under the control of the human who used it - but to strip his powers and render him vulnerable, if he'd gone too far." Oliver sighed. "The traveller did lose his powers, and he nearly died in the Arctic sea, but found his way to some kind of safety, and eventually his powers were restored to him."

"So you figure that Lex would also have had an ordeal, but probably survived," I said. "That makes sense. And this dome of Ice place - is that where the gateway down in the caves that you guys mentioned used to lead?"

"Wow, how do you put things together like that?" Oliver asked. I just kinda shrugged - somehow my brain was cross-referencing cryptic references like crazy tonight, but I wasn't going to admit that it was just some kind of fluke. "Yeah. I'm not sure if somebody's even tried it since the dome collapsed, but I didn't want to try myself. The gateway, and the dome - they seemed to have an echo of the Traveller's alien father inside, and that personality apparently has a bad temper."

"Okay." I sighed, and tried to figure out if there were any questions I'd been meaning to ask and hadn't gotten to. "One more thing - when you said that you couldn't get me X-rayed, back at the Talon, was that a hint to Chloe that you don't want me to meet the Traveller directly, because Mercy is looking for any aliens that I might meet?"

"Well, yeah," Oliver admitted. "Now that you're not on her GPS screen, it's probably not as big a deal - the Traveller is sort of in the same position as Chloe, or I - I don't think that Mercy will attack any of us directly, at least not if we're not directly standing in the way of something that she badly wants - like getting Lex back. She wouldn't make a move on Oliver Queen, at least. The Green Arrow, Mercy would kill without hesitation." Oliver smirked at this contradiction.

"Okay, so - and I admit that this sounds naive, why not let her find out that the two sides of you are the same?" I asked uncertainly.

"It sounds very naive," Oliver agreed.

"Oh, thanks a lot."

"I just mean that - Mercy doesn't want to hurt me, but that doesn't mean that she wouldn't reveal the truth about my secret identity if she could. That's not really an injury, just inconvenience and some public embarrassment."

"Charming lady," I said, and yawned. "So, how much of the way do you think we've walked?"

"Umm - maybe a half mile so far, maybe not quite," Oliver admitted. Suddenly, in the silence, we both heard the sound of a car bearing down a cross-street toward us. Oliver led me away from the sidewalk, but I'd already spotted the footpath between two-story houses and hurried to make for that obvious hiding place. When it led out into front yards on the other side of the street, I looked back for Oliver, and saw that he was nearly caught up with me. "Did you get a look at the car?" I asked.

"Yeah - white minivan, caught a glimpse of a soccer mom type in the front passenger seat," he said. "Couldn't ID the driver, but I don't think it's our guys, just law-abiding Smallville residents. We should probably stay away from the streets as much as possible, now, though."

"Okay." I sighed. "Guess it's time for the Green Arrow to lead the way again."

"Twist my arm," Oliver laughed. "You just want to get a good look at my backside, Maria."

I rolled my eyes - but I admit I took a peek when he wasn't looking. Not bad.


	3. Chapter 3

"Not quite the level of accomodations that I was used to in Metropolis," I muttered as Oliver led me inside the abandoned industrial building. (Reminded me of that time I had to sneak into the old power station with Isabel to save Tess from Whittaker - which wasn't really a good thing to be thinking about.)

"No," Oliver admitted, playing the light from his flash around the area. (Like a lot of his gear, it was green and sort of arrow-shaped, though not really thin enough and long enough that he could shoot it out of a bow - just sort of 'Green Arrow branding.') "But the privacy offered is unbeatable."

"Yeah, I guess there's that," I said, collapsing with as much dignity as I could manage onto the dusty floor, after all of that walking - and in this skirt, it was hard to make sure that Oliver wasn't getting a look at my dignity, if you know what I mean. "On the other hand, I guess I've always more been one for company than privacy, if you know what I mean. Not that the absence of privacy is a good thing in and of itself - it's about the _right_ company."

"Which isn't what you've got here?" Oliver said, flashing me a teasing grin, and I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Well, I guess I've got to do something about my reputation here. Why don't you tell me all about yourself? That gets just about everybody in a good mood."

I groaned a bit and didn't rise immediately to the bait, instead reaching out for the bag that I'd carried all this way. The occasional sight of junk food inside, (which Oliver had quickly packed up at the Talon,) had been tempting me the whole way over, but I'd refused to slow down for long enough to tear anything open and start eating. Time to reward myself for such self-discipline. "I - I'm a bit reluctant to just open up and tell you bunches of stuff, Oliver. I **know** that you're as interested in - my friends as Mercy is, if for different reasons, and so many of the things that I could tell you would be somewhat helpful in tracking them down."

"That's true," Oliver admitted. "On the other hand, if I were going to try doing that in spite of you, it wouldn't be that hard to find out who you're close to in Roswell, or who you were friends with when you lived there - and start doing background checks."

"Yeah, I know," I admitted. "Even when it comes to Mercy - I'm not protecting the identity of my friends, so much as the information she needs to know about how they'll react in a crisis. Maybe my reluctance isn't rational, but I'm not up to making a serious effort at rationality right now."

"Okay," Oliver agreed. "Then give me a chance to feel good by talking about myself - and maybe I can earn your trust by sharing about myself - though I'm not sure I still have many secrets from you - aside from the identity of my Kryptonian comerade in the League, and I will reserve that still, for now."

"Of course," I agreed. "Well, how about this - why the Green Arrow in the first place? Why did a rich kid, raised in the lap of luxury, feel the need to start dressing up in a mask and hood and shoot arrows at bad guys? Were your parents killed by common criminals, driving you to set off on a quest for revenge or something?"

Oliver leaned against the doorframe and chuckled a bit wryly. "Do you **know** anything about my parents' death? It was in the news, but - well, I'm curious as to how the rest of the world reacted to it, but mostly I'm asking so I know how to start an answer."

"Oh." I sighed. "I guess I know that they died early, and at the same time. Wasn't too long. If I heard anything more exact about the circumstances, I can't bring it to mind at the moment."

"Their plane went down - a private jet." Oliver sighed. "I took it hard, but didn't really go through the usual stages of grief - denial, but then irresponsibility and sheer stupidity. Anger and depression didn't hit until later." I nodded. "And - well, the consequences of irresponsibility and stupidty came around, landing me in a desert island ordeal that might have killed me too. The things that saved me were rediscovering an old natural talent with bow and arrow, and meeting an unlikely new friend."

There was a long pause that was filled with only small sounds - something skittering around the foundry in the distance (Eww!), and my chewing, which I was trying to not overdo to the level where it would disturb Oliver from telling his story. "When I got back to America, I'd gotten to the stage of being angry, and there was a lot that I saw with new, angry eyes. This country is supposed to be a place that's safe even for the poor and the powerless, where the concept of justice means something real and... well, that's what I'd thought when I was younger, anyway. It seems like the rule of might, of people using whatever power they've got, whether it's a knife, a gun, a fast car, or a billion-dollar corporation - using power to get their way and not caring who they hurt in the process."

"And - well, I guess I was angry enough to come up with the hare-brained scheme of risking my life and my family's reputation to try and stop that kind of thing wherever I could - using my arrows to shoot down injustice, and try to stand up for the kind of America that I believe is still there amid all the selfishness and cruelty." He shot a weak smile over at me in the weak light. "The mask and the hood serve a double purpose, as you can probably guess - making Oliver Queen hard to recognize for those who witness the Green Arrow, and trying to present an intimidating and impressive persona to the criminals themselves."

"Yeah, I'd gotten that part," I agreed. "And where does the grudge against Luthorcorp fit into this? Are you just incensed about the wealth and power of the corporation being used for nefarious purposes, or does that tie back into your parents' plane?"

I'd pushed him too far with that guess, I realized it as soon as the words had all been spoken. "Your turn to tell me a little of your story," he muttered in a sullen voice.

I still wasn't that eager to give too many details to Oliver - an admittedly angry young man on a mission, even if it was well-intentioned. "Let's see, umm - father left when I was seven - I found out a few years ago that he died of lung cancer in Baja. Mom's still going strong, though sometimes I think that she gets more kooky every year. She remarried two weeks before I left for college in Albuquerque. One and a half best friends, one serious ex-boyfriend, who you've already guessed something." I sighed. "I'm not sure what else I can tell you."

"Tell me about your music," he suggested. "You must be used to doing that without getting into your friends much."

Somehow that was the right thing for him to suggest, right then. "I - um, I dunno, I've always wanted to write songs ever since I was little. My mom even sent me up to a songwriter's workship thing when I was thirteen - and don't you dare crack one joke about 'Band Camp,' mister Queen."

"I wouldn't dare," he insisted, almost too earnestly. "So it was always about writing music, instead of performing?"

I thought about that. "To start with, I guess. The first time I took to the stage to sing - for more than pizza karaoke, was - was the Blind Date concert on Valentine's day, 2000." I reviewed that story to see how suitable it was for retelling - looked good. Had to make sure not to mention Max, and probably minimize Liz's role, but she wasn't important for the musical part after all. Michael and Isabel had been off chasing alien signs that night, and that was before Tess came to town at all. "The local radio station in town was holding a big promotion for the concert and dance, including local tryouts for the opening act - and my friend Alex was in a band, actually he'd organized it the autumn before."

"Now, he's - your half-best friend?" Oliver asked. "Just trying to follow along."

For a moment I didn't understand what he meant, and then I remembered my glib comment about 'one and a half best friends.' "Yeah, actually, that'd be him And when their lead singer got **mono**, I - well, I horned in on the spot in a nice way. I mean, I really did want to help out, and I suppose I wanted to be part of something like that. They were all about these really bad, angsty dark songs that would never have impressed the judges at this radio station, so I insisted on teaching them some oldies and lite-rock standards. And yeah, I was a bit late to the audition, but they were bombing until I got there, and I got us all the job."

"Hmm - okay," Oliver said casually. I kind of got the feeling that if this had mattered in any serious way to him, he wouldn't have accepted my version of events without asking Alex or one of the other guys from the band about it, but since this was just a 'getting to know Maria DeLuca' excercise, he wasn't worrying about voicing any doubts. (If that was what he thought, he probably had a point, both ways.) "How did the performance go?"

"Umm - was a bit touch and go, but ended well," I admitted. "There was a problem with security at the airport and the headliners, so we got upgraded to - well, not headliners ourselves so much as 'all there was,' you know? And - well, I panicked and sort of had a bout of stage fright. But Alex - he talked me through it, and once he got me going I was loving singing for an audience." I smiled at the memory. "That first song - we covered 'In the air tonight.' You know, Phil Collins?"

"Yes, of course I know," Oliver admitted. "I've always loved that song."

I smiled at that, wondering when 'always' meant for Oliver Queen, when he'd first heart it, but didn't ask. "So after that - well, I kept fooling around with songwriting and singing through high school, sometimes with Alex, and also - well, my step-father, the guy who's my step-father now, he organized a band of his own, trying music out as a second career, so I sang with them a few times - and once I got scouted by a label based up in New York. They offered me a chance to go up there and cut a single - but it didn't work out well once I realized that they weren't really interested in my own songs or the most personal part of what I put into my singing - just thought they had a new fresh face for the indie-rock scene, pretty enough and with a good enough voice to go through the star machine."

"Yeah, that does happen," Oliver agreed. "From what little I know of show business. Really relying on creativity and character is difficult for top executives, because it's risky. They grope out for anything that will give the illusion of control, and the assembly-line system is what many of them come up with. All standardized, performers completely interchangeable except for slight differences in style."

"Yeah," I admitted, "but that doesn't mean that I wanted to be part of it. That's the sort of thing that the indie scene originally grew up as an alternative to, but I guess the lure of the almighty dollar is pervasive enough to sneak past such stated differences of ideology. And I guess I'm not a complete idealist myself - I'm willing to compromise some with the realities of the system if that's what it takes to get my music heard outside the clubs and a few small websites. But I realized back there in New York that I had to work a lot harder at my songs and my singing if I wanted any hope of succeeding with them on my own terms."

Oliver was silent, and I shook my head in frustration. "That's what I _thought_ that I'd gotten to, dammit - when LexRecords signed me, and even more when they finally called me up to Metropolis. And it _**pisses**_ me off to think that the whole deal was just a way for them to keep an eye on my friends, and maybe find out enough to stick them into a White room and experiment on them, or..." All of my self-control more or less left me at this point, and I was weeping tears of anger, all the more pissed because I couldn't keep a rein on my feelings in front of Oliver, who was so much not the kind of guy that I felt safe showing my vulnerable side to.

At least he seemed to be flustered by my breakdown, instead of taking a snide and superior attitude about it. "Umm - hey, could you toss me a twinkie or something?" he muttered, pointing at the bag I still held and my left hand, which was squeezing the remains of a moon pie so hard that it was actually crumbling apart.

Focusing on a mundane task like that helped me get a little bit of control back. (Had Oliver meant it that way? Was this a tactic that he'd used with Lois or some other girl? Lois seemed like the type to throw temper tantrums more often than crying jags, but then again, so was I really. You could never tell for sure about the way someone would react to circumstances.) Finding a double packet of those infamous snack cakes was easy enough, and I tossed it right into Oliver's hands, which made me smile. "Why, Mister Queen, however do you keep your figure, eating like that?"

Oliver favored me with a cocksure grin. "Plenty of exercise, and everything in moderation." He considered the tiny print on the wrapper. "Only two hundred and eighty calories per serving size of two cakes. That's not great, but not too bad as long as you don't go on and end up eating a half dozen of them at once."

I wasn't sure if he meant a half dozen twinkies, or a half dozen packages, but that didn't really matter. I sighed wheezily, still not fully recovered from my fit. (I suppose that my voice had probably been really unsteady when I delivered that line.) Oliver continued on as he unwrapped the thing. "And I suppose that I have good genes too, which helps. Nobody in my family has really tended to put on plenty of extra weight in fat. Listen, I think things will probably stay really quiet for a while, and we can't both stay up all night. Why don't you try to get some shuteye? There's no comfy mattresses, but I picked up some old sweaters that will probably do as pillows.

"Hey, why didn't you tell me?" I complained. "I could've actually used a sweater to wear on the way over here?"

"Well, why do you think?" I stared at Oliver, and he wiggled one eyebrow in a salacious, yet charming way. I automatically crossed my arms across my chest.

"I don't think that I'm ready to get to sleep yet, especially under conditions like this," I announced as crossly as I could manage.

"Well, suit yourself I suppose?"

"What about you? Feel like getting a bit of a nap while I stand guard?" His look was eloquently skeptical. "Oh, I see how it is. We can't _both_ stay up all night, but I guess you can. Just not little old helpless me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I suspect that I was pulling dangerous all-nighters and standing guard watching for alien hunters and evil aliens when you were still a spoiled rich boy living with your parents."

"Hmm." Oliver considered. "I'd love to confirm or deny that, but I'd need more specifics on the time frame. You hadn't told me about any of that stuff yet, remember?"

"Well, yeah, I guess so," I admitted, but him pointing that out didn't make me feel any more eager to share. "Put it this way - you're going to have to wrestle me to the ground to stop me from patrolling around inside the foundry and watching the exits." Frankly, I'd feel more reassured doing that for myself than closing my eyes and trying to relax - I suspected that I'd just see the kids in the black leather bursting in, overwhelming Oliver, and dragging me back to Metropolis to face Mercy.

"Don't tempt me - about the wrestling with you part, I mean," Oliver teased. I just rolled my eyes. "On the other hand, though - I think that you've got it backward. You can't effectively patrol without the flashlight, and you'd have to wrestle _me_ down to take it."

"That just shows how much you know, Green Arrow," I snapped, and stamped off towards the shadows. But as soon as the darkness started to close in, I waited, so as to avoid blundering into anything unseen while I waited for my night vision to kick in. I've got pretty good eyes for dealing with the dark - maybe all those carrots that my mom made me eat for nightvision back when I was young were finally kicking in. (And I've gotten into the habit of snacking on carrot sticks, which helps with fitting into outfits like the one I wore tonight.) Once things were dimly clear around me, I made my way to a window and peered out at the road by which we'd approached the foundry. No sign of any pursuit.

I did bump into something on my way to the next vantage point - the streetlight that came through the windows was uneven and generally low, so I guess that there's only so much that nightvision can do for me. I wasn't hurt at all, but I could picture Oliver chortling if he'd overheard the clatter. Determined to wipe the smirk off his face, I concentrated hard, and didn't make any other little mishaps on my first tour of the building, creeping back to the place where we'd parted company from the other direction. I was worried about if Oliver might have moved off on a patrol of his own, but I could see the light from the flash, Oliver's still body...

...And as I crept close, I clued in that Oliver's eyes were closed as he leaned against a doorframe. Was he really asleep, just resting his eyes, or somewhere in between? There was no sign of a snore, but maybe he wasn't prone to them, or - did people who were sleeping on their feet breathe differently, so that they wouldn't snore, even if they would tend to when lying down?

That didn't really matter. He certainly didn't seem to be aware of me as I stood very close to him. Wondering how quick his reactions would be if he were awake but slightly clued out, I gently took the green arrow flashlight out of his hand, backed away, and then turned the light off. This would be my trophy, my proof for later that he'd fallen asleep and I was still on the job. Score one point for me.

But in an odd way, one-upping Oliver wasn't as much fun if he wasn't paying attention and bantering back with me.

#

"Good morning, your ladyship." I felt a rough shake, and the hard concrete rubbed against the back of my head. Ow. Also... oh, no.

I sat up quickly, and groaned at the swimmy feeling that provoked. Somebody - it would have to be Oliver, I'd recognized that voice - quickly backed away, and after a moment a bright light shone into my eyes. "Oww, quit it!" Oh, no once again: that would have to be my little prize, the flashlight, that he'd taken back. When I'd been asleep - but I couldn't even remember going to sleep, or lying down. I could sort of remember deciding to _sit_ down instead of continuing to march around to keep myself awake. Maybe that had really been all it had taken, after all the excitement of the evening.

After a few moments of such depressed thoughts, the light faded out, (I'd closed my eyes, but could tell the difference even through eyelids,) and Oliver muttered, "Oh, yeah, sorry about that sleepyhead."

Immediately my anger flared up, as I opened my eyes and stared out into the darkness. (He must have turned the flash off entirely, instead of just pointing it away from me.) "I wasn't the one who fell asleep first."

"Well, I guess I figured that if you were bound and determined to take first watch no matter what I said, I might as well try to get some rest. I wanted to let you know, but figured that playing hide and seek in the abandoned foundry wasn't the best idea. You'd know where to find me - and you _should_ have, before falling asleep yourself."

"Yeah, great story, you're a smooth talker," I said. "But I couldn't have taken more than five minutes to do the first circuit, before coming back and finding you snoozing on your feet."

"Five minutes? That's a laugh. Try more like..."

I just stomped off and tried to find my way back in the dark to the place I'd left the snacks, to grab something for breakfast. (Actually, now that my eyes were adjusting, a small amount of what might be twilight was visible from the nearest window - possibly filtered through some heavy clouds.) Once I'd found my bearings, I realized that I'd have to take the long way around the building, if I was to have any chance to make it there without going back and facing Oliver again.

I did, actually, but he showed his face in that room after I'd finished a few sweet treats and drunk half a can of high-sugar, high-caffeine cola. My indignation had mostly faded away by that point, to be replaced with frustration and regret. We'd both acted out of pride and exhaustion, and really both of us had fallen asleep on the job. I should have gone back to Oliver and shook him awake when I realized that I was starting to get giddy with lack of sleep, but I hadn't been able to admit that much to him. (Part of that was that I wasn't wearing a watch, and would have expected some snide remark about having only managed to stay on watch for an hour or two.)

Oliver had turned away from me, pointedly staring off into the faintly brightening twilight, and I felt the impulse to make some sort of a gesture. Despite all of my foolishness, we were both alright, and - well, anyway. I stepped over, carrying the treats, and touched Oliver's arm gently. I wasn't quite sure why I did that - not really to let him know that I was there, I knew that he had to hear my steps on the concrete floor. Maybe it was just a nonverbal way of saying 'hello there.'

And as Oliver turned around, his head bent towards mine, and before I really knew what had happened, his arms had met around the small of my back, our lips pressed together. His breath didn't taste bad, despite all that had happened over the night - he was spicy and sweet, which was an irony that I won't get into right now, and a kind of fog of pleasure swept through my head. Irony number two is that even though I knew that Oliver Queen was a big playboy and experienced pick-up artist, I was the first one to bring my tongue into play.

Breaking the kiss and stepping away from each other was more of a mutual thing, but I wasn't hurrying to get away from him, it was more of a need to hit the pause button for just a moment and figure out what had just happened. Oliver seemed to be just as puzzled at the result of his actions as I finally handed over the bag, and selected some high-nutrition granola bars and a bottle of orange juice. (Possibly the least junky choices there, which made me feel bad.)

I perched myself on a sort of riser that was at a convenient height, crossing legs carefully, and tried to puzzle out my reaction. There was an overtone to the entire sequence that seemed remeniscent of my early relationship with Michael - like our first kiss, the first time that Max and Liz went up to see River Dog, and I was waiting with him and Isabel for them to come back, and I was babbling, and he said afterward that it was to 'shut me up', or our heated nights of making out together during the December heatwave.

But in a weird way, my reactions were a bit different to Oliver, now, than they had been to Michael. I'd been intrigued after kissing Michael, and aroused, and uncomfortable - that was pretty much it. Any sweeter and more tender feelings had taken longer to start to grow, like after he'd opened up enough to let me see a less guarded side of himself, like - well, you probably know the sort of thing that I'm talking about.

And it's not like my reactions to Oliver Queen were suddenly candy floss and sweet kittens now, or whatever. For one things, both of us still obviously had some walls up, and I knew that there was something stony about the Green Arrow, (just like mister Stone Wall, Michael. Oh, boy, what was I in for with another one like him?) But - but when kissing him, I had sensed some unspoken potential, a very human kind of connection between us, that was tugging at my soul when I just looked at him munch on granola. In fact, I wasn't even going to rule out the notion that I'd just fallen in love with a first kiss, though I wasn't sure that was the best term for it either. I didn't particularly feel like letting him out of my sight until we'd sorted it out, though, and as he looked up from his little breakfast to meet my steady gaze, I thought that I could tell that he felt the same way.

It was the damndest thing. (Maybe I'll have to write a song about it. That'd be an okay title, come to think of it.)

"Okay, so what's the plan, for when it gets lighter outside?" I asked him. "You mentioned that there was someone at Queen Industries, that you thought you could call on for backup."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed. "Of course, we still have no working phone that we can trust, and no means of transportation faster than our feet - and we don't know what happened to Chloe last night after she took your implant."

"Right," I said, suddenly remembering to check the bandage on my shoulder where Oliver had cut that thing out of me. "She did volunteer for that little job - but I don't mind saying that I'll feel better if we can find out that she's okay. Would she have gone back to that place, the Talon, if she could?"

"I would certainly think so - but it might be better to stay clear, since Mercy could have tracked you that far," Oliver pointed out.

"And you still don't want to take me to meet - the traveller?" I asked.

"Umm - not for preference, no. Umm - I think that the best way of getting in touch with my contact would be to start by heading for the old train station. There isn't a passenger service out of Smallville any more, so even if the kids are casting a net around Smallville for us, they might not think of looking for fugitives there, unless they remember that there's a bank of pay phones there. We'll see how things go from there."

"Alright," I said. "Do we wait or move out soon? I'm not sure how soon your guy will be getting to work."

"Oh, he's an early riser," Oliver agreed. "We can head off at any time - it's probably nearly another mile to the station, but we should be able to avoid being spotted easily enough."

I sighed at the thought of another walk like that as we cleaned up the evidence of our little visit to Creekside foundry - but Oliver reached out his hand for mine as we headed out, and that understated gesture made me smile all the way back down the winding drive to the county road.

As I started down the road, Oliver twisted his head to look at a dark blue pickup truck parked on the shoulder, and tugged on my arm slightly. Curious but somehow not wanting to ruin the mood with words, I followed him over to inspect the vehicle.

There was a note tucked under the drivers' side windshield wiper, which I had to admit was a little bit unusual out in the middle of nowhere like this, and Oliver carefully extracted this, unfolded it, and began reading. (I had to let go of his hand for this, because one was needed to lift the wiper slightly against the built-in spring while the other retrieved paper.) After reading for a short moment, he wandered over to the drivers' side door, and pulled on the handle - it opened easily enough.

Finally, I could no longer keep all the questions inside. The first one that managed to get out was "Are the keys in the ignition?" That seemed like it would be much too easy.

"No, and he didn't mention in the note where he left them," Oliver admitted. "Which makes sense - that would make it far too easy for someone else to happen along the vehicle and drive it off, if they investigated even casually. I guess - I guess he's expecting that I know him just enough to figure out where he stashed them. They'd have to be in or near the truck somewhere."

"Okay..." I looked around the vehicle, a mid-nineties American model, evidently well cared for and in good repair, and checked on top of each tire, Nothing. Tried the passenger side door, which was also open, and rifled through the glove compartment for a moment. Oliver had finished checking behind the driver's seat, and reached down between the two seats. Exclaiming slightly, he lifted up an old, detailed sort of metal box. "What's that made of?" I asked, curious again.

"Lead, an eighth of an inch thick, I believe," Oliver replied, weighing the box in his hand with satisfaction. "Useful for carrying around samples - of meteor rocks. Almost no radiation of any type can get through this."

"Oh," I said. "So not what we're looking for?" I didn't see the connection, but Oliver's smile seemed to be so pleased. I almost flinched when he opened the lid of the box, but he withdrew a key ring and angled the container so that I could see that there was nothing else inside.

"I didn't figure that he'd be driving around with a sample of Kryptonite - this box is probably in the truck just so that if for some reason a chunk needs to be safely isolated - he can get a friend to do that for him," Oliver said, sorting through the keys and using one to roar the truck's engine to life. "Okay, we've got wheels, and that changes everything - so does the news I just got. We can head back to the Metropolis outskirts at least, though maybe I should call in as soon as we've left the Smallville area."

"What was in the note, anyway?" I asked. Oliver first put the manual transmission into gear, then up to second as we drove away, and then passed the paper over from the dash in front of him towards my side of the car.

"Sorry, I forgot that I hadn't given you a chance to see," he muttered. "There's nothing there that needs to be secret from you. I think that he wrote it that way on purpose."

"Oh-kay," I muttered, and unfolded the paper again. It read:

"Mister Green:

Chloe's told me the story, as well as she could. She's fine - nobody bothered her as she took the item up to the river above the old ruins of Reeves Dam, and threw it into the river. I've been out most of the night looking for the kids in Black, and haven't found any indication that they're out looking for you. It's possible that Mercy didn't approve them leaving Metropolis because she thought that you were leading them into a trap.

Leaving the truck here because I figured you'd need wheels. This is just about as close as I can get to the foundry safely, with all the rocks strewn around that area. Just take it back to the farm when you're done with it, and please don't let someone blow it up, it was Dad's. You know how to reach me if there's anything else that I can do to help, but under the circumstances, I also understand if you feel you need to settle this one alone.

Take care of Miss Maria, (and Maria, if you're reading this too, take care of my friend,) and both of you, be careful. Have a good day."

That was all of it, except for the signature, which was a sort of a stylized S enclosed in a five-sided figure, like a diamond seen from the side, with a flat top, pointed bottom, and sloped sides. I remembered that detail, wondering what it stood for - Steve? Smith? Sucker?

"So this was from your Kryptonian friend?" I asked. "The truck, the note?"

"Well, yeah, of course," Oliver agreed. "Nobody else would have to steer clear because of 'rocks' near the Foundry."

"And Chloe couldn't come herself to tell us that the coast was clear?" I asked, feeling upset.

"Well, she probably didn't want to risk leading anyone to us," Oliver pointed out sensibly. "Even after she'd thrown the tracker into the river, she probably wasn't feeling entirely sure if maybe she was being followed. Even if she drove up to Reeves dam and then back, it would probably be late when she got back to Smallville. I don't begrudge her getting some decent sleep in a warm bed, myself."

I felt a bit begrudging, myself, but didn't bring up that one. "And just when in that reconstruction did she go to meet with the Traveller? Before she got rid of the tracker, or afterwards, when she was still worried about Mercy's henchmen following her?"

"Hmm." Oliver grumbled under his breath. "I don't know. I would certainly hope that she didn't drop by - um, by the farm before dumping the thing. But maybe he caught up with her. Superspeed, remember, and Lois might have mentioned giving us a ride to him."

"So does Lois Lane live out at - at the farm, with the Traveller?" I asked, chuckling.

"Yeah." Oliver smiled back at me. "I'm still not going to answer questions in much detail, about him, but I'll stop worrying about dropping hints."

"Okay, that makes sense," I agreed. "I'll try to do the same."

"And - since I don't think that this is a big secret that you're sworn to keep - just how ex- is your Antarian ex-boyfriend?"

"Ooh." I reconsidered how I had left things with Michael, realizing that Oliver had to be asking out of more than just simple curiosity, after that breathtaking kiss. "We got into a big fight, about me going to Metropolis and working with LexRecords. Come to think of it, even though he never told me so in so many words, now I wonder if he was worried about something of this sort - that the whole deal wasn't on the up-and-up, that somebody behind LexRecords was trying to find out about them..." Thinking about that was suddenly making me terribly close to crying again.

But Oliver reached out to pat my hand with his, and that gesture made me feel better. So did what he said next. "Maria, listen to me. There are a lot of reasons to feel upset about what Mercy planned for you, but the notion that it cheapens your accomplishments with your music - that's not one of them. You're a great singer and an amazing songwriter - you know that I heard you perform, so accept my judgement on that. And Tess Mercer thinks so too, because she would _not_ have chosen this tactic for investigating your friends unless she thought it was _believable_ that you'd be signed to a label in the Luthorcorp sphere. For that matter, Lex must have thought so too, when he instigated the plan - and whatever Lex Luthor's failings might have been, bad taste in music was not one of them."

I took a deep breath, feeling better but still trying to calm down my body's reactions from 'on the brink of tears.' "Yes, but there are lots of singers who are just as good, and never got..."

"Yeah, you got this 'break', if there's still any chance of the contract with LexRecords working out to something good, because of an unpleasant reason," Oliver agreed. "But that sort of thing works out to chance a lot of the time anyway - chance with hard work stacking the deck in its favor somewhat, but that's about it. Talented artists get discovered for the craziest and silliest reasons, time and time again, not really because of their talent. That's just the way things work out." He sighed. "But we're getting somewhat off topic from your ex-boyfriend."

"Right," I agreed. "He - he asked me to marry him, and I was about to say yes, but - I don't know, somehow I clued in that there was an unstated agenda and asked some questions back. It came down to, he wanted to marry me if I stayed back in Roswell and moved in with him. I kinda flipped out, I was really upset about him asking me something like that just as a way of controlling my life, and I stormed out."

"Ooh, okay, I'll file that under the 'never try' list," Oliver said, making a silly 'tastes awful' face which set me off giggling. "And was that the last time you saw him before coming to Metropolis?"

"Um - not quite, he dropped by one time, really stiff and awkward, with a little present and some warnings about the big city - which included never even going near the Southside. I guess I ignored that one too - except I didn't have much of a choice, after the label booked that gig for me." That reminded me of everything that had happened yesterday night. "After you get in touch with your people - what's next? Do they escort me back out of town under guard, or into the hotel to get my things before I go?"

"Well, umm - I guess that that depends on what you want, Maria," Oliver said softly. "Frankly, I don't think that you'll be much safer from LuthorCorp back in New Mexico - the business is headquartered here in Metropolis, but they have subsidiaries and branches in every state - which is more than I can say for Queen Industries, actually, which is more centralized in a handful of large cities across the country."

"Ooh, okay. I suppose even Albuquerque doesn't make the list, huh?"

"Nope, sorry." He sighed. "I'm pretty sure that I can keep you safe in Metropolis, but you probably wouldn't like being 'kept safe' to the exclusion of all else, if there's nothing else, like your music, to keep you here in town."

"Um, no," I agreed. "For one thing, it sounds a little bit too much like just becoming a plain old 'kept woman.'"

"That's fair, I guess," Oliver agreed. "Now, this might be a bit more difficult, but would you want to keep playing ball with LexRecords if between the two of us, we could convince Mercy to keep her hands off your secrets? At least with the more obvious coercion techniques. She'd probably still insist on dropping by to visit her 'star in the making' every so often, and trying to get you to let something slip, but you're clever enough to keep your guard up if you know what she's up to, aren't you?"

"Umm... maybe, yeah, if LexRecords would really play fair with me and not try to be driving me back home without being too obvious about it."

"We'll see," Oliver agreed. "Personally, I think that they might still want to make you a big star, if they can make money from you that way."

"And just _how_ would we convince Mercy of anything like that?" I pressed him. "I mean, what do we have for leverage on her?"

"Knowledge is power," Oliver pointed out. "We know what Mercy's been up to, which includes conspiracy to commit assault and extortion. We know that she's got some superpowered kids working for her, and probably they can be linked to other crimes. And we've got a shrewd guess that Lex Luthor is alive, and desperately wounded."

"We don't have proof of any of that," I pointed out.

"No, we don't," he agreed. "Which means that we won't be able to bring it to the authorities, but that's only one avenue. But I have to admit, I don't know exactly how to use what we've got for best effect. I've got a few ideas, but it'll take most of the drive to sort them out, at least."

"Well, it's good that we have this time, then," I pointed out. There was a bit of an awkward silence following that. "Do you have any other girlfriends at this point?"

"Umm - no, actually, not since - umm, well, it's complicated. I sort of had a friends-with-benefits thing going on with a lady in the Justice League, but that's been no benefits and hardly friends for a few months now."

"Okay, just what's the deal with this Justice League thing? I have the feeling I'm going to need more about it, if we - well, you know."

"Umm, yeah." Oliver sighed. "Basically, it started as an idea I had to start something bigger than my own escapades as the Green Arrow. I met a few other people with powers and some sort of idealism, morals, or ethics. I picked a few of them who I thought stood a chance of working as a team, gave them some good tech courtesy of Queen Industries, and opened up the floor for good missions; anything that would stop bad guys or help people."

"Hmm." I thought about that. "So you might have to go off - who knows, maybe halfway across the world, and risk your life on a League mission?" I didn't even like it when Michael put his life on the line, and usually he really didn't have much of a choice in it. Getting involved with a guy who really did run towards the danger...

"Not much chance of that lately - the League's mostly undeground at the moment, but yeah, it's possible that things could pick up," Oliver agreed. "Frankly, a part of me is really hoping that we can get together again, seriously."

"And nothing that any chick is going to say is going to convince you any differently?" I put in, already knowing that it was true. He just shrugged. "Okay, well, I guess I'm going to have to figure out how well I can come to terms with that." I thought about it. "If I **don't** want to stay with LexRecords, in Metropolis, then what else is a possibility? To keep me safe, I mean."

"If you don't want to be around me, you mean?" Oliver asked, and sighed. I nodded slowly. "Then I would suggest you go somewhere fairly far away, and to a big city where it might be hard for Mercy to track you down. I have - less direct contacts in Gotham City than my Queen Industries office, and they'd all be at your disposal."

I sucked in a deep breath, remembering my trip to Dominique, and the disappointment of working with her. I'd told Oliver about that, but had he remembered the venue?

It was hard to think about such things, but I didn't really want to leave Oliver behind, as well as Michael, and Liz and Alex and the rest of them - even if it wouldn't be for that long. "Okay, well umm, thanks for the offer, but... but I'm not sure what I want yet."

"That's okay. You have some time too," Oliver agreed. "In the meantime, I hope you don't mind if I keep working on the Metropolis plan?"

The hopeful tone in his voice made me laugh and smile again. "Sure, of course."

"Good, then I have a question for you, something that I need your help with. I think that we'll need to arrange your sudden reappearance in Metropolis in front of someone that Mercy can't directly order around, but someone who'll recognize you, and if possible know that you were missing this morning. Can you think of anybody like that?"

"Umm, no, I don't think s... wait a moment," I said. "Today's itinerary, if I can just focus..." Looked at the dashboard, and saw that the clock only read 7:10. Even though there was nothing on the to-do list for today, that managed to jog my thoughts. "If we stay hidden for long enough - I was supposed to have an informal interview with a reporter from 'Sounds of Metropolis' magazine this morning, over breakfast at nine, and then the same reporter was supposed to have a brunch meeting with some of LexRecords top executives. Her name was Amy Foster. I'm not sure if Mercy was supposed to be at that brunch, but if the two of us could crash it..."

"You know, I think that'd be perfect," Oliver said with a wide smile of his own. "When I call in, I think I know who I can start asking questions of."

"Excellent," I said, and was suddenly feeling so exhilarated that I needed to do something else impulsive. If Oliver hadn't been driving, I could have grabbed him and kissed him, but as it was: "Just in case something happens to me, go to the..."

"Come on, don't talk like that," Oliver quickly insisted.

"No, no, I need to say this," I told him. "My friends won't be eager to play Justice League right away, but you've earned the right to make your pitch, or nearly. Go to the Crashdown Cafe, in Roswell, it's on the northwest corner of Second and Main, right at the center of town, you can't miss it. Ask for Liz Parker - she's my best friend, and she can make the introductions for you - if she decides that they can trust you."

"That's it?" Oliver laughed. "You're not going to tell me anything to help win her over?"

I thought of things that I might say here - Czechoslovakia, Granilith, Gandarium, the Royal Four - but a pat password like that would only prove so much. "No, that part is up to you. If you know me as well as you should by now, then you should be able to think of something useful."

"You like to make things difficult, don't you?" Oliver teased me. I just smiled to myself as we drove along.


	4. Chapter 4

With a tiny little dart-bow hardly any bigger than his hand, Oliver shot a small arrow from where we hid, near the front doors of the LuthorCorp building, across the lobby. It stuck high on the wall, and immediately began to give off some sort of whispy smoke or vapour. It might have been my imagination, but I could smell something unpleasant immediately, and other people inside the lobby reacted. So did a kind of alarm system, which immediately began blaring a discordant noise, and the emergency lights started flashing on and off.

We waited just a second, until the LuthorCorp security guards swung into action. Most of them were immediately focused on the stink-dart, as I had hoped when I suggested this part of the plan, and two of them ran off down the hallways leading out of the lobby. One did seem to be wondering about checking out the main entrance, but apparently wasn't sure about committing himself into danger before getting the attention of a partner, and in the moment that his back was turned, Oliver and I made our move, dashing through the edge of the lobby, and taking the stairs.

I felt full of energy, excited about what was to come, and neither of us stopped moving or even slowed down much before reaching the third floor, east hallway, where Oliver jogged to a stop long to try a door, and when it opened, wave me inside. I narrowly avoided a set of metal shelves full of cleaning supplies in the unlit janitor's closet and thudded against the wall, not hard enough to hurt but make me dizzy for just a moment. Luckily Oliver was right behind me, and caught me up in his arms as the door swung closed, leaving us both in darkness. Well, who was I to let a good janitor closet opportunity go to waste?

"This - this is kinda crazy," I pointed out in a soft whisper a few seconds later, once Oliver's lips weren't occupying mine, and had moved down to plant dozens of kisses in quick succession on my throat. "We - umm, we only just met last night, and couldn't stand each other at first, and... and I'm still not over Michael, really, if I admit the truth to myself." The reason for the stuttering and pauses was mostly that Oliver's hands weren't idle, but running tickishly up my sides, and across my back. I'd insisted on getting a brand new outfit before we made our move on LuthorCorp, and had selected a white peasant-style blouse and looser-fit jeans, after all the wardrobe difficulties from last night. It had been comfortable, even for running in, (along with some comfortable sneakers,) but the blouse was definitely giving Oliver some access, not that I was really complaining.

"I know it's sudden," Oliver whispered back. "But I've never felt anything like this before." Chuckling, he cupped his fingers over one side of my bra, stroking the fabric and what was beneath it very gently.

"I'll just bet you haven't," I snorted, and tried to back away - which just meant banging into the shelves again. "Ouch."

"Oh, did you hurt yourself?" Oliver asked, with a mix of concern and playfulness. "I can kiss the part you banged and make you feel better."

I thought about that, and oriented my upper arm and shoulder towards where Oliver's voice had been coming from. He sounded a bit different that it wasn't a different part of my anatomy, but went through with the promissed boo-boo smoochies, and we did kinda get started again from there.

He was sliding back into second base when Oliver's watch went off. "Oh, boy, there's our cue, at the worst possible opportunity," he muttered, but immediately ceased all makeout activities so quickly that I was actually tempted to press for a bit more time, and a more gradual cool-down. But timing **was** important at this stage. After opening the closet door a crack, Oliver paused to adjust my appearance and make a few fussing changes. "You're still supposed to look slightly as if you'd been through a frightening night-long ordeal, not like you'd just gotten - well, you know," he muttered.

"Not that we have," I pointed out. "But yeah, I do know what you mean."

"The effect would have been stronger if you'd kept your original clothes - well, not the ones you changed out of at Chloe's, but the ones you spent the night in," he repeated. "They looked nicely grimy and dishevelled."

"Yeah, a bit too grimy," I pointed out. "This just reflects well on you, that you thought to get me cleaned up a bit before bringing me back. And I still want to make a good impression overall on that reporter."

"Okay, well, I guess we're ready then," he said, opening the door, and stepping out - nearly into a big security guard in a dark blue suit. (He looked a bit like one of the Special Unit agents dressed like that, and I shuddered at that thought.) "Um, hello there, I think that we got ourselves a bit lost. This is Maria DeLuca, and she's late for the LexRecords lunch meeting."

The agent smiled forbiddingly. "Miz DeLuca?" From his intonation, the question could mean anything, most likely 'I've never heard of you.'

"Yes," I said, not knowing what to do with this minor hiccup in the plan other than to follow Oliver's lead. "I'm one of their newest recording artists."

He considered for a moment. "So you'd know Mister Robbins, then?"

I immediately realized that this character was smarter and more informed than he looked, because this was really a pretty clever test. "Only met him once - he's in A&R for LexRecords I know, but I haven't worked with him. Gina Matthews is my rep."

"Yes, I know," He smiled a tiny little smile that seemed incongrous on that big face. "I heard Miss Matthews mention something about you on her way in. She's very worried about you, Miz DeLuca. Right this way."

"Of course." I shot a look at Oliver, but he just nodded with some satisfaction. Had Gina really been concerned? Maybe she wasn't in on the plot - or maybe she'd been play-acting for someone, like the reporter. In any event, this seemed to be working out - as long as the guard just escorted me straight to Gina without calling to ask anyone - like Tess Mercer, first.

After about ten yards, the guard suddenly turned around as a new question occured to him. "Who's the guy, Miss DeLuca?"

Okay, what was my best response now? "His name is Oliver, and he helped me out a lot. I was hoping that he could come to the lunch as well, because..."

"Mister Queen?"

"Yes, that's me," Oliver admitted with a shrug.

"Miss Mercer has left strict instructions that she be informed before..."

"I can never drop in for a surprise visit with that girl," Oliver muttered, sounding truly disappointed. "I mean, I know that she's not wild about surprises in general, but sometimes it'd just be fun to..."

The guard considered for a much longer moment, and then said, "Well, maybe I just didn't recognize Maria's friend, now did I?"

"Thanks a lot."

"Not a problem. The name's Hal, by the way. Hal Ketcher."

"Nice to meet you, Hal," I said, offering my hand up to be shook by his huge one. "And thank you very much." I don't think you'll ever know just how much you helped me out, I added on silently.

"All part of the service. Right this way."

#

Our entrance into the LuthorCorp executive lunchroom was as impressive as we could have planned. Gina exclaimed with sincere surprise to see me, dressed and appearing as I was, but that shock could be read more than one way. The reporter from the magazine took a little while longer to recognize me from whatever promotional photographs she had already seen, but definitely reacted with eager anticipation to hearing the story of why I hadn't been able to make it to breakfast. I sped through the setup and had already gotten to the part with the first three tough guys when Tess Mercer swept majestically up to that end of the table.

"Miss DeLuca, I'm so glad to see that you're safe, and that you and Mss Osborne will apparently still have a chance to do your interview," she pronounced. "But the Chairman of Queen Industries is not exactly welcome in this building at his own invitation."

Okay, this was the start of the showdown. I turned to Mercy and put on the most flawlessly disingenous manner that I could manage, knowing that Miss Osborne was my primary audience here. "But Oliver is the one who helped me get back here safely, Miss Mercer. I invited him to come with me. You're not going to reward his deeds, his good samaritanism even, by just dismissing him like that, as an unwelcome guest?"

"Just what did he have to do to get you here?" Miss Osborne asked, pulling out a phone or PDA and getting ready to two-thumb type.

Mercy took a long moment to appraise the whole situation before answering, and I didn't try to say anything to push her. Finally, with a very tiny sigh, she offered, "Miss DeLuca, Mister Queen, would you like to have a word in private?" I don't think that Miss Osborne could tell that it was a minor admission of defeat on Mercy's part, and I'm not sure about Gina. But Oliver and I knew.

"Yes, that would be fine," Oliver said. "Don't worry, I won't keep you ladies from your lunch for long."

So in just a minute or two more the three of us were gathered in a small office somewhere nearby on that floor. "I'll cut to the chase, Mercy," Oliver said, after giving the surroundings a cursory look. "We now know a few things that I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like Maria to talk to the press about - including exactly what she's been through over the past eighteen hours, what kind of dirty extortion tricks you've been pulling... and that Lex Luthor is alive, but still lying at death's door."

Tess flinched at that last part, and I knew that she hadn't prepared for either of us to guess that much. "Is this the part where you tell me the terms of your silence?" she said. "I know that Maria doesn't want the wrong kind of story getting out in the press either - she and her friends back home have too much to lose."

"That's true," Oliver agreed. "It's in everybody's interest to keep things quiet, so we won't ask for much. Maria's album is going to get made, and publicized with as lavish a campaign as any of LexRecords' other artists would expect. And LexRecords will be paying Queen industries a very reasonable sum for round-the-clock personal protection for their newest star artist."

"Hmm." Mercy considered that carefully. "And will you be giving any kind of reason for this bodyguard contract, or why we'd have to source outside of the LuthorCorp corporate fold on this point?"

"That's up to you," Oliver told her. "The public relations angle isn't what I'm concerned with, so much as being able to assure myself that Maria will be safe at all times - from you, and all the other dangers that Metropolis might have lurking in shadows. If you want us to release a relatively sanitized version of the attack story, then I imagine that a lot of people might cynically assume that it was a publicity stunt on behalf of Queen Industries - and that you tolerated it because it was publicity for Maria and her music as well. Again, both our companies can benefit from a little co-operation."

"That does make sense, Oliver," Mercy admitted grudgingly. "And what do we do about the dead man who's already been found near the scene of Maria's performance, with an arrow shot through his eye?"

"I can tell the truth about that much," I volunteered. "The Green Arrow showed up - before I was found by someone from Queen Industries. He was defending me from an imminent threat to my welfare."

"Well, I'm not sure that I like you going on the record about something so unsavory, but I guess we'll have to suck up and play the cards that we're dealt," Mercy admitted, getting up. "I assume that you already have a story that won't upset me rehearsed, Maria?"

"More or less. I'm good at working off the cuff," I told her.

"And do you have any restrictions on how much contact I have with Miss DeLuca on an ongoing basis, Oliver?" Mercy asked.

"Not really. I can't keep her away from all of your cronies, with the contract a going concern, but I'm pretty sure that she can handle herself, as long as threats aren't in the mix," Oliver admitted. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to try to dictate terms about how much time **I** could spend with your starring siren."

This actually seemed to startle Mercy. "You - the two of you are..."

"We're not entirely sure yet," I said, making my way to the door. "It hasn't been that long we've known each other, after all. But why wouldn't I be interested? He's terribly cute, and a _great_ kisser." And on that flip line, I made my exit.


	5. Epilog

When Liz Parker checked the mail that had been delivered to the Crashdown, her sense of the perogatives of the occupant was still new. Her parents had recently made the decision to retire and move to Idaho, where Mom had lived before coming south for college, and Liz was now sharing the management of the Cafe with a thirty-something MBA guy, John Sebastiens, who her father had hired while she was away at Yale. Liz had also moved Max into the apartment upstairs with her, a change that her mother had approved of only on the condition that Max and Liz would not take much longer to finally agree on a date and 'make the engagement official.' Liz thought that it had been official from the moment she said yes and Max put the diamond on her finger, last winter, but...

She stopped on the stairs, then resumed climbing, but called through the open door. "Are we expecting anything in a thick brown envelope with no return address?"

There was a long pause before Max's voice answered her. "No - are we ever?"

"I didn't know for sure, there might have been some arrangement." A shirtless and half-shaven Max joined her in the living room, and they both sat down on the couch to stare at the envelope for a moment. "Umm - I'll tear it open, and you - be ready as you can in case there's, I dunno, something dangerous inside?"

"I - I don't like you taking risks like that..." Max started uncertainly.

"It's not really much of a risk," Liz pointed out. "And we'll both be safer if you're concentrating on what only you can do, completely, instead of splitting your focus."

"Okay, but one other precaution. Don't stick your finger inside to tear it open."

Liz considered that. "Okay, then what?" Max immediately rushed over to the kitchen and returned with a medium-sized sharp knife. "Alright then."

Once she had sliced the top of the envelope open as neatly as she could, Liz carefully flexed it open enough to look inside. There were two slips of folded paper - one small and the other larger, but that was it. "Can you sense anything dangerous?" she hazarded. "I don't know if you could sniff out anthrax spores or something with your power - I definitely don't see any obvious powder."

"Let me take the first slip out," Max suggested.

"You''re not any safer. Maybe it's something that's infectious to - to hybrids and safe for humans," Liz pointed out. But Max stretched out his hand, and Liz sighed and offered the envelope for him, and he picked out the smaller slip.

Max unfolded that, read its message quickly, and then sighed. "We should probably get Michael over here before we go any further."

"Huh?" Liz blinked in surprise. "So that there's one more of your friends in danger?"

"I'm pretty sure that there's no danger, Liz - at least, nothing physical. I'll go make the call." He left the paper on the coffee table to go and seek out the cordless phone handset. Curious, Liz picked it up and read it herself. The message was simple, even in unfamiliar handwriting:

"Hi there. I don't know you, but I was at a concert meet & greet to see Maria DeLuca, and she slipped me this to put in the post. I didn't look at the message inside, but I get the impression that she didn't want anyone else to know that she was sending a message. Roberta."

Liz nodded with a little bit of understanding. No return address, because Roberta wouldn't know what to do with the letter if it couldn't reach Maria herself, and because Maria didn't want someone to know that it had been posted at all. (And probably Roberta didn't want Liz to know where to find her.)

And if this was important news from Maria, something that she hadn't been able to tell them over the phone, then Michael did need to know about it as soon as he could, and it would salve his pride to be reading the letter at around the same time as Liz herself. All of the gang had noticed how distant Maria seemed since she had moved to Metropolis - she never called or returned messages, and didn't have much to say for herself on the few times Liz managed to get her on the phone.

"He'll be here in a few minutes," Max announced as he returned to the living room. Liz looked the question at him - Michael's new apartment was on the north side of the town, more than 'a few minutes' drive from the Crashdown certainly. "He was already coming over for breakfast, I caught him in the car," Max explained further, and Liz nodded.

"What do you think we'll find?" Liz asked him, but Max just shrugged, and they waited in silence. By Liz's watch, it was indeed less than four minutes before they heard heavy footfalls taking the stairs two at a time, and as impatient a pounding on the door. "It's still unlocked, Michael."

When Michael picked up the first slip of paper without a word, Liz felt justified in starting to read the other. They _had_ been addressed to her, not Michael, in the first place after all. The outside of the folded page read, in Maria's handwriting: "Please post from New Mexico, stamps enclosed. Tellno1 - personal" and also included the street address of the Crashdown. Taking a deep breath, Liz unfolded to look for the real message. Max took his hand in hers and looked over her shoulder.

"Hello to all my friends.

"Sorry that I haven't been able to tell you what's going on before now. I get a little paranoid when it comes to you, and I AM being watched, but aside from that, things are going great. The recording and the performances are incredible, and - well, this is going to be hard for Michael to find out about, but I've met a new guy. There's nothing serious about it yet, but I'm having a lot of fun with Ollie, and of course he's been a lot of help about how to contact you safely and stuff like that.

"Whatever you may think, don't try to 'rescue' me from this. We may try to make our own destinies, but blind fate does play its part, and as hard as it might be to understand, this is where I want, and possibly need, to be for now. I'll meet or talk to you when it's safe. If something or somebody weird shows up wth the code phrase 'pointing arrow', then it's a plan of Olivers', and go with it. I hope that this is a safe enough arrangement, but it's the best that I can think of for now. Mercy's eyes and ears are everywhere.

"My love to you, Liz, and Michael, and all of our friends, until we can safely meet again.

"Maria.

"PS: Mercy may try to investigate you directly, now that her gambit with me has mostly failed. Beware of strangers, especially if they come from here in Kansas."

Michael had held his hand out for the letter by the time Liz finished it, and with a sense of foreboding she handed it over. Michael scanned over the text much more quickly than she had read, and looked up to stare accusingly at Liz, as if she were to blame for Maria's decisions.

"Who the hell are Ollie and Mercy?"

Neither Max nor Liz had an answer to that question.


End file.
